Sometimes

 

 

Dear Reader, 

Last week I was talking about beautiful Worcester Pearmain apples and I thought this week I would remind you of quinces. Their short season is now. The quince tree is deciduous and bears a pome fruit, similar in appearance to a pear and is bright golden-yellow when mature.  The quince is a hardy drought-tolerant shrub which adapts to many soils and tolerates both shade and sun, but sunlight is required in order to produce larger flowers and ensure fruit ripening.  It was favoured by landscape architects such as Fredrick Law Olmsted in the early 20th century for its attractive blossom.  

Most varieties of quince are too hard to eat raw but are used to make jam, jelly and quince pudding, or they maybe peeled, roasted, baked or stewed.  Adding a diced quince to apple sauce will enhance the taste of the apple sauce with the chunks of relatively firm, tart quince.

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The following quote is probably one you all know from Edward Lear's (1812-88), The Owl and the Pussy-Cat:



"They dined on mince, and slices of quince,
  which they ate with a runcible spoon..... "

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From Francis Kilvert's diary, 1878, The Gower Peninsula, Glamorgan

"We had a merry windy luncheon on the bank near the churchyard gate, and great fun and famous laughing. An east wind was blowing fresh and strong, the sea was rolling in grey and yeasty, and in a splendid sunburst the white seagulls were running and feeding on the yellow sands.  A wild merry happy day."

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Sometimes
 

I feel overwhelmed by
a spirit of joyfulness,
a desire to jump, to dance,
to laugh, to see the world
in a bright light,

sometimes I am optimistic,
enjoy the warmth of the sun,
soft patter of rain on my face,
the wonders of this world.

Sometimes I believe
people are kind and good,
are innocent of evil,
deserve praise and
I honour them,

and sometimes I don't.

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With very best wishes, Patricia

Truth Modern

                               

                                                                        Worcester Pearmain apples and blossom

Dear Reader,

The Worcester Pearmain is an early season English cultivar apple tree which was developed in Worcester by a Mr. Hale of Swanpool in 1874. It was once the most popular cultivar in England for early autumn harvest and is still popular to keep in the garden.  Apparently in order to grow it successfully a Worcester Pearmain needs nearby bees to pollinate it. The Pearmain apple has a strawberry-like flavour and its early season property is passed on in breeding programmes to other cultivars. Its taste is smooth and sweet and it is recommended for stewed apples.

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October 13th, 1787, from Gilbert White's diary

'We saw several redwings among the bushes on the north side of the common.  There were swallows about the village at the same time: so that summer and winter birds of passage were seen on the same day.'

 

October 16th, 1851, John Everett Millais in Surrey

'Worked on my picture; painted nasturtiums; saw a stoat run into a hole in the garden wall; went up to it and endeavoured to lure the little beast out by mimicking a rat's or mouse's squeak.....Succeeded, to my astonishment.  He came half out of the hole and looked in my face, within easy reach.'

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Truth Modern

Through a kaleidoscope's
shifting, bright colours,
set close to the eye,
the viewer's truth is reflected,
assuring the mind of its veracity,
acknowledging its fantasies
as realities,
seeing truth
not as it is, but as we would
like it to be,
spinning words,
detaching truth from its moorings,
setting it loose in murky waters.
Illusion of truth
sandwiched between lies
is the authentic truth
of our times. 

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Very best wishes, Patricia

Waterhole

Dear Reader,

 

I wrote today's poem after I saw a documentary about Indian women in villages having to walk miles in the sun, to get a pitcher full of water from a well, and then walk home again.  I suppose I had never thought about water as something we, in the west, take for granted.  I realize now how very precious water is and try to be careful when using it, washing my teeth, for instance, without leaving the tap on. Well I am trying to do my bit...

 

When we were in Lyme Regis Francis bought a Book of Thankfulness.  The idea is that every week you write in it saying what you had been thankful for in the last few days. We have enjoyed writing in it and 

thinking about what we are grateful for, and we have found there are so many things.  What a life of luxury we lead compared to our fellow human beings in other parts of the world.....

 

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From Dorothy Wordsworth's journal, October 1st, 1800, in Grasmere, Westmorland

   

'A very rainy morning.  We walked after dinner to observe the torrents....the lichens are now coming out afresh, I carried home a collection in the afternoon.  We had a pleasant conversation about the manners of the rich - avarice, inordinate desires, and the effeminacy, unnaturalness, and the unworthy objects of education......a showery evening.  The moonlight lay upon the hills like snow'.

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 Waterhole

As dawn breaks Afia and Tamika
place their pitcher pots
on their heads,
start walking to Potra
many desert miles from home.
The sun scorches, the heat intense,
the girls silent.
Many hours later
at the waterhole
they carefully fill their pots
each drop of water precious.
Wearily they walk home
under a sky full of stars.

I brush my teeth
watch the clear water
stream into the basin
turn on the dishwasher,
the washing machine,
see rain pouring down the drains.

                                                                              *

Very best wishes, Patricia