tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6920328515238600552024-02-07T02:35:05.033+00:00Is There Any More Tea In That Pot?Vivhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05112209059565649656noreply@blogger.comBlogger105125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-692032851523860055.post-75346436298262646812016-06-06T08:17:00.000+01:002016-06-06T08:30:09.890+01:00Remembering <h2 class="date-header" style="background-color: #111111; color: #888888; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; margin: 0.5em 0px; min-height: 0px; position: relative; text-transform: uppercase;">
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D-Day 65 years on...........</h3>
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<strong>My dad and mum in 1941 on their engagement in March</strong></div>
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My dad was just 22 when the war began in 1940. A young man.</div>
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He landed on Sword Beach in Normandy, at Arromanches, on 6th June 1944, and was in the fierce battle for Caen. </div>
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He would never talk about his experiences, except the were funny little anecdotes, which we all now know so well.</div>
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The legendary story about the hen,Clara, which was taken from a farm by his army sergeant and travelled with their unit up through France and on into Germany, laying an egg for him each day!</div>
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He described the Mayor of Colleville- sur- Mer, wearing a big shiny fireman's helmet who was running up and down on the beach waving his arms in welcome!</div>
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Dad at some point on the way up to Germany, was given a jeep to drive, never having driven in his life, but not knowing how to stop it and driving it into a tree in order to do so!!</div>
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Here, in his own words of annotated text in the book he gave us to read about his Division, the description of the mayor.</div>
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" I finally hitched a lift on a Sherman (with its 105mm gun) on DDay, and after seeing "Fireman Sam" on the beach, jumping up and down, I saw an extraordinary sight, a French courting couple strolling along in the fields, oblivious to the shelling and bombing going on: not to mention the hazard of tiptoeing through the minefields!!"</div>
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But he has never been able to talk about what he saw............</div>
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I remember as if it were yesterday, when I was 16, and I was talking to him about the fact that he survived, and if he hadn't I and my sister would not have been born.</div>
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He took hold of my hand and and said he had seen things it was better not to talk about, and he had had to do things which he found so awful, that it made him cry.</div>
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He did say that he had helped to bury bodies in a concentration camp, and that memory was seared into his brain. He was 25 years old then.</div>
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Afterwards, he cried like a baby, which was quite shocking for me at the time, never having seen him cry, or a grown man cry before. He never spoke of those things again.</div>
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When I got married, we lived in Portsmouth for awhile and dad traced his old sergeant, who lived in Gosport. He went to see him with my mum.</div>
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I took him in the D-Day museum there at Southsea, at his request, but 5 minutes inside and he was reduced to tears once again. The memories were too painful.</div>
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So watching the ceremonies again today, is very moving for me. Matthew and I were planning a trip to the landing beaches for the October of 2006, but sadly we never made it as he was killed in an accident in September of the same year . I will go to pay homage to all those who went and fought and died or stop our country from being invaded, and to help to liberate another, which I have visited many times and where I now have friends.</div>
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We should not forget them.</div>
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My dad is a veteran, but a silent one.</div>
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I finish with his words, written in the flyleaf of the history of his Assault Division</div>
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"War is obscene and brutalising, if sometimes unavoidable. The only post-war celebrations should be in the form of Remembrance Services to the many who never came back.</div>
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Smith of Rossendale May 1994. 50 years on."</div>
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<span class="post-author vcard" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 1em;">Posted by <span class="fn" itemprop="author" itemscope="itemscope" itemtype="http://schema.org/Person"><a class="g-profile" data-gapiattached="true" data-gapiscan="true" data-onload="true" href="https://www.blogger.com/profile/01848535800775712886" rel="author" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;" title="author profile"><span itemprop="name">Teapot</span> </a></span></span><span class="post-timestamp" style="margin-left: -1em; margin-right: 1em;">at <a class="timestamp-link" href="http://anymoreteainthatpot.blogspot.co.uk/2009/06/d-day-65-years-on.html" rel="bookmark" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;" title="permanent link"><abbr class="published" itemprop="datePublished" style="border: none;" title="2009-06-06T14:53:00+01:00">Saturday, June 06, 2009</abbr></a></span></div>
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Vivhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05112209059565649656noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-692032851523860055.post-37117089480617213262015-11-10T17:39:00.000+00:002015-11-10T17:39:55.650+00:00Return to the Lizard...............November 2015 Retrospective.........<h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; font-weight: normal; margin: 0px; position: relative;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We are returning to the Lizard next week, just for a few days, once again staying at the Housel Bay Hotel, which holds so many, many memories for us. Family times, when we were complete. </span></h3>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The Hotel is now up for sale, as I guess the owners, Alfred and Iona, are ready to retire. </span></h3>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Housel Bay Hotel Terrace, Lizard Lighthouse in the distance. </span></b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> So here are a few of the paragraphs from the old blog, written on October 10th 2009:</span></h3>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"What is it about the Lizard that it draws us back?</span></h3>
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<span style="font-size: 19.305px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I never thought after our first visit to The Lizard in Cornwall that we would be returning year by year until now.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 19.305px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We went for the first time as my dad didn't feel like going on holiday on his own after my mum died in 1990, aged just 70.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 19.305px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">When asked where he would like to go he pronounced "Cornwall, to the Lizard." As he and my mum had loved it there.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 19.305px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So began an annual trek, beginning in 1992. At that stage it was just ourselves, Alan and my dad. Matt at that time had gone to "Soul Survivor" at Shepton Mallett, a huge Christian gathering at the Bath and Wells showground.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 19.305px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">How to describe it?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 19.305px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">My dad describes Mullion Cove as "timeless" and on a wet windy night with the sea bashing over the breakwater, "primeval". His memories of the Lizard are special and vivid.<br />It is a timeless place.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 19.305px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The other side of the peninsula that is Land's End is much more geared to tourists. St Ives, Penzance, Carbis Bay, and the monstrosity that is the theme park at Land's End itself.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 19.305px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The Lizard is a peninsula which begins at Helston,passes RAF Culdrose, and then unfolds as you drive along its spine. Heathland either side, covered in wild gorse, wild fuchsias and tumbling hedgerows, scrub and stunted trees.</span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6GGZXoXzv00RnPfWhgnnXQi43aupxcbkKWeQuebWb1TFXGWH6IU1mnpiCC5b_W69thnyICJNsJbjt2VT8XP0v-bNa1HJjIldErIDO4fl3yR5Fg633v7bmvKhYu2bm4K55zLd_iDbMr-s/s1600-h/Mullion+2004+045.jpg" style="color: #6699cc; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-size: 19.305px;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391259127834597346" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6GGZXoXzv00RnPfWhgnnXQi43aupxcbkKWeQuebWb1TFXGWH6IU1mnpiCC5b_W69thnyICJNsJbjt2VT8XP0v-bNa1HJjIldErIDO4fl3yR5Fg633v7bmvKhYu2bm4K55zLd_iDbMr-s/s400/Mullion+2004+045.jpg" style="border: none; float: left; height: 400px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; position: relative; width: 300px;" /></span></a></div>
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<strong><span style="font-size: 19.305px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Cadgwith village.</span></span></strong></div>
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<span style="font-size: 19.305px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The little villages that sit on edge in coves and bays are all different. Inland is partly a designated wildlife reserve, with Goonhilly in the centre and St Keverne's church a landmark. Other small hamlets dotted about.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 19.305px;">Visitors emptying out of coaches at the Lizard village itself, wander along to The Southernmost point and to The Most Southerly Café. This in itself is not commercialised and although there are the usual gift and craft shops, the whole thing is very low key.</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEbk8YSD9RITiG-WSugtDAn9NdihBQNCOZquYdCb3sI264ipUqkdknlZRb1v_6y9I_7IMwwVM6JEEFaHv9nGXAIKJWs881BbRyWCQxEPpcdkZF2SbM2xfPelfW9FGmaPuZWRm4NI3nP2s/s1600-h/The+Lizard.jpg" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;"></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 19.305px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">In spring now, the RSPB set a watch there as there are pairs of Cornish choughs breeding. They returned to the area after 50 years absence.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 19.305px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I was so excited when I saw them last May flying out of the cave in the rocks where they were raising their brood. I always have a pair of binoculars handy. There are usually seals in the water at the Lizard Point.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 19.305px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">All this still does not describe why it draws us back. It stays in the mind visually, and as impressions, tumbling white surf, serpentine rocks, calling sea birds, the tang of the salt in the air on a windy day. Wide skies, turquoise blue of the water, smooth sand in little coves , the rough feel of the granite as you sit on a slab for awhile. The timelessness and the knowledge that year by year it changes very little.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 19.305px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Narrow coastal paths snaking their way along the edges of sheer cliffs or descending into hidden bays. Always always a delight. The scenery is superb on these coastal fringes.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 19.305px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And we have been there in all weathers and all seasons. Seeing the wildness of winter storms, and the abundance of spring flowers, the lushness of summer, and yes we have had some excellent summers there.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /><span style="font-size: 19.305px;">Sky endless blue, sea stretching to the horizon in a sparkling, ever shifting panorama, shimmering until infinity.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 19.305px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The scent of autumn, ploughed fields, brown bracken, a sense of the holiday season coming to a close and a quietness arriving.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 19.305px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Mullion village itself is the largest on the Lizard,and is a bustling community, with several artists in residence, which I enjoy. They actually work on site and it is fascinating to see their craft unfold in front of you. They are friendly and like to discuss techniques, offer suggestions and encouragement.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Matt and his grandad, my dad. <br />On the cliff at Lizard Point. September 2004</b>.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 19.305px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It is to Mullion we returned again this October,(2009) when we stayed at the Housel Bay Hotel once more, having previously stayed in various holiday cottages with the family. The last time we stayed at the hotel itself was 2005, when we had my dad with us. It was like coming home. So many good memories there of family holidays, shared experiences, the voices and laughter echoed in my mind.........."</span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Lizard Point November 2011</b></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 19.305px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So, we are back again next week, and hopefully, for as long as we are able to make the journey.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Lizard Point. Cornwall. </b></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 19.305px;">Matt and my dad, on the walk to Kynance Cove. 2004.</span></div>
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Vivhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05112209059565649656noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-692032851523860055.post-24090014477707287232015-08-11T21:05:00.005+01:002015-08-11T21:19:18.359+01:00A step back in time<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNYSmgnw-H2-teb9J-fufuGgOfopgSP6YLxXI-YV_71K3r-R69sOFbwN7UI9xUoT-1b23ZhwHlU2UEuFvgu-1qyXUIPLjiE2oyDMnSQle6M46zdUPM3_yULkOB9lEFiOFhzEfyJexB3qg/s1600/1971.+Fields+on+the+way+to+Cribden+side.+Rossendale.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNYSmgnw-H2-teb9J-fufuGgOfopgSP6YLxXI-YV_71K3r-R69sOFbwN7UI9xUoT-1b23ZhwHlU2UEuFvgu-1qyXUIPLjiE2oyDMnSQle6M46zdUPM3_yULkOB9lEFiOFhzEfyJexB3qg/s400/1971.+Fields+on+the+way+to+Cribden+side.+Rossendale.jpg" width="392" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me. Setting off to climb Cribden. 1971. </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Tuesday August 11th 2015.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> How is it that sometimes a random impression from the past will pose itself at the forefront of the mind?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It is not as though the train of thought had been on that particular track.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Out here in the garden, the air has been so still that no leaf stirs......</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The washing hangs limply on the line, and there is a general silence from the long summer break. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Less traffic, quieter roads. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> As I write the sounds of children playing nearby float on the air......</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Maybe, just maybe, that stirred my senses.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was suddenly transported back into the past of my own childhood summers.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">They always seemed so filled with sunshine.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am sitting by a river, with waters so clear in places, that each pebble and stone looks up at me out of the shallows by the edge.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We are having a picnic.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It had involved two bus journeys and a walk to arrive with my parents and sister.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am looking for minnows, small silvery fish which dart in and out of the translucent green water weed waving in the current.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXBoQb_9WtyoL1yER-kwY7phuwMmxLwYORJJJjHEcNQG_j5cq3u121-qSolCxNXw-CvokeNbnNhyphenhyphenOwr4Apdb_qnGbrTU3vVsZybaH5oglKRjJVkWgPhF3V3Oi7KovRCLgE8xq2dCAQU_E/s1600/Mountain_Minnow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXBoQb_9WtyoL1yER-kwY7phuwMmxLwYORJJJjHEcNQG_j5cq3u121-qSolCxNXw-CvokeNbnNhyphenhyphenOwr4Apdb_qnGbrTU3vVsZybaH5oglKRjJVkWgPhF3V3Oi7KovRCLgE8xq2dCAQU_E/s400/Mountain_Minnow.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There is an old stone bridge nearby where the river passes through two arches, creating a mirrored image in the water. I could sit here for ages watching...... </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpMD63dPgCRfNbcrkcjX6Gc8QkY20xoGWqiLK5rCXFnd8oLhdSbxRiP0KtmOBlBZ82ukbVh5RnOF2tNE4diSv0xV8oJFFxhz8SsqHLwigyHjJeauoTbZmHiJL0ntY0oLusvpn0WInYdss/s1600/Cribden+view.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpMD63dPgCRfNbcrkcjX6Gc8QkY20xoGWqiLK5rCXFnd8oLhdSbxRiP0KtmOBlBZ82ukbVh5RnOF2tNE4diSv0xV8oJFFxhz8SsqHLwigyHjJeauoTbZmHiJL0ntY0oLusvpn0WInYdss/s640/Cribden+view.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Rawtenstall viewed from Cribden Hill. One I used to regularly climb. </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Other impressions come to mind.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am sitting in a field of glorious golden buttercups, on a hillside, sunshine warming my face.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mayflowers creating punctuation marks of colour in between.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The grass is rippling in the breeze.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Such a sense of freedom and sheer enjoyment in all that I can see.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Childhood, at least mine, was like that....</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Memory stirs again.............................................</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There is rough bark under my hands, it's texture grazing my palms occasionally as I gradually climb upwards looking for footholds as I move higher, the ground receding below. How I love climbing trees! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> I still love trees, their varied shapes and forms, the way the light dapples through the leaves in summer, and the skeleton outlines of wintertime.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Now I paint pictures of trees.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Random memories, snatches of the past whispering to me in pictures, like muffled conversations.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> And always, always the timeless hills which surrounded our valley. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I used to follow the well-trodden field paths to reach their summits, looking down into the valley where the houses seemed so tiny and far away.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Up on the top where the air was pure,and other hills melted away into the far distance, you could hear the sound of a curlew.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> How did I feel? I felt very small in the timelessness of the moment. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> I am so very glad I climbed them before their slopes became covered with more housing and the fields disappeared. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> It is 41 years since I left Rossendale and it's hills, but they have left an indestructible mark on my formative years and beyond. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> It was simply the best childhood. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span>Vivhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05112209059565649656noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-692032851523860055.post-11201677946802323292015-06-05T08:51:00.000+01:002015-06-05T08:58:53.388+01:00Back to the days of Billy the Kid! Texas makes it legal to carry a pistol in a holster. <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX1tJ7pvDrR0EW-9GFpVfN8-zod_Lpl8Wm3EU5a_Qqfpmq06atzQIxuvT5Ll06jtLnY4ZPsOiYP723pP4DPiB-hr9x18LpIFg4Z3WJ2SfGL1s8osOJJdWaF3cvz2Lq-xdZAkp5Th0qYAM/s1600/sellers171.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX1tJ7pvDrR0EW-9GFpVfN8-zod_Lpl8Wm3EU5a_Qqfpmq06atzQIxuvT5Ll06jtLnY4ZPsOiYP723pP4DPiB-hr9x18LpIFg4Z3WJ2SfGL1s8osOJJdWaF3cvz2Lq-xdZAkp5Th0qYAM/s640/sellers171.jpg" width="440" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Matt in California 1998</span></b></td></tr>
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I was reading the Times on-line before breakfast when I read this article about the new gun laws in Texas. I found it chilling.<br />
Our Matt went to the States for the first time, just after his graduation from university before he started his new job. He was staying in California at the invitation of an American friend he had made during a trip to Morocco. They spent 4 weeks travelling along the Pacific highway from San Francisco to Los Angeles and briefly into Mexico.<br />
What has this got to do with gun laws you might ask?!<br />
It was his first introduction to American life and culture, and with it the ease at which people were allowed to bear arms.<br />
We met him at the airport on his return and no sooner had he got through the door and begun to open his cases than he, literally, chucked a load of magazines all about guns, on to the carpet and said<br />
" Take a look at that lot!" <br />
The fact that people actually could openly go into a store and buy one, off the shelf, as it were, never mind keeping one in the house, completely incensed him!<br />
The minute I read the that piece I could hear him going on about it!! It was still early as his plane landed soon after 6,00a.m.!<br />
He never liked it and I guess any argument with him on the subject would end in stalemate!<br />
Once he got wound up he was wound up big time!<br />
So I'm posting this full article here as I have to say it had the same effect on me so many years later.<br />
We have been to the States three times now, and we have always felt safe, and never noticed any firearms, except those that the Police carry themselves. And we have met the most kind and generous people.<br />
This is a cultural issue for me. <br />
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Read it and think...................everyone is entitled to an opinion.........and Matt's voluble reactions still ring in my ears! <br />
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<li class="tto-slide tto-current-slide" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><img alt="a gun-rights advocate carries a rifle on his back and a cardboard cutout of a pistol on his waist as a group protests outside the Texas Capitol, in Austin, Texas." src="http://www.thetimes.co.uk/tto/multimedia/archive/00919/179782697__919453c.jpg" height="413" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 0px; margin: auto; overflow: hidden; width: auto;" width="620" /><div class="caption" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; width: 124px;">
<span class="f-caption" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 1.1em; font-weight: bold; line-height: 13.1999998092651px;">A gun rights protester carries a cardboard pistol in his holster at a demonstration in Austin, Texas, earlier this year</span> <span class="f-credit" style="color: #666666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 1.1em;">Eric Gay</span></div>
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<span class="f-author" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 1.2em; font-weight: bolder;">Rhys Blakely</span> <span class="title" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 1.2em;">Washington</span></div>
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Last updated at 12:01AM, June 5 2015</div>
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Texas may be synonymous with pistol-toting cowboys, but for more than a century the Lone Star State has banned its residents from carrying handguns in plain sight.</div>
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That restriction is set to end with a new law that will make it legal to carry a pistol in a holster in Texas for the first time since Billy the Kid was making a name for himself in the wild west.</div>
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It has long been legal to walk around Texas with a rifle in hand, as long as the manner in which you do so is not “calculated” to alarm others. Since the 1870s, however, Texas has prohibited the open display of handguns, imposing an outright ban that today exists in just four other states.</div>
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Greg Abbott, the Texas governor, has promised to change that and will sign into law a bill that will permit the “open carry” of handguns.</div>
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“It’s a thumbs up for law-abiding citizens,” Debbie Riddle, a Republican who represents part of Houston, told Fox News. “Everywhere there is a denial of Second Amendment rights, crime is through the roof. It’s a deterrent. If someone is going to rob a convenience store and there are other people inside with guns on their hips, they might think twice.”</div>
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CJ Grisham, the founder of Open Carry Texas, a group that campaigned for the law, said: “Criminals aren’t afraid of prison, they’re afraid of getting shot.”</div>
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Members of his organisation made their views felt by holding rallies at which they carried rifles – a strategy that even met with rebuke from The National Rifle Association.</div>
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“To those who are not acquainted with the dubious practice of using public displays of firearms as a means to draw attention to oneself or one’s cause, it can be downright scary,” the NRA said. “It makes folks who might normally be perfectly open-minded about firearms feel uncomfortable and question the motives of pro-gun advocates.”</div>
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Texas is also on course to allow concealed weapons on college campuses for the first time. Opponents have suggested that allowing guns in college settings notorious for hard drinking and raucous lifestyles is a mistake. “I have concerns about introducing guns in a university environment already fraught with stress and often fragile emotions,” said José Rodríguez, Democrat state senator from El Paso.</div>
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However, a further ten states are weighing similar moves, with supporters arguing that allowing guns on campus grounds would deter rape.</div>
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Michele Fiore, an assemblywoman in Nevada, told <i>The New York Times </i>in February: “If these young, hot little girls on campus have a firearm, I wonder how many men will want to assault them. The sexual assaults that are occurring would go down once these sexual predators get a bullet in their head.”</div>
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The Texas law will allow private colleges to ban guns. State-funded colleges will be able to establish “reasonable” gun-free zones but not to issue blanket bans on firearms.</div>
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Andy Pelosi, executive director of the Campaign to Keep Guns off Campus, said he was disheartened by how lawmakers had turned “a deaf ear to the wishes of higher education officials, faculty, students, parents and campus law enforcement, who together made it crystal clear that they didn’t want guns on college campuses”.</div>
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<br />Vivhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05112209059565649656noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-692032851523860055.post-75697852716138363972014-12-03T20:30:00.002+00:002014-12-03T20:48:48.337+00:00December 3rd 2014. <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc5_NYD3fS46Xnfd1QGVYDjk7VMagJwSUWyMmaTm3ziVz3yXKt5gfdeZartksfh9IHMeZNCOcn7mK3GcvBsBh-OiJnsJ_YW4O1iNu2c_K6q3-QKJzHEV2v2QR6kKuebkUPI-k8JMnuHP8/s1600/P1030354.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc5_NYD3fS46Xnfd1QGVYDjk7VMagJwSUWyMmaTm3ziVz3yXKt5gfdeZartksfh9IHMeZNCOcn7mK3GcvBsBh-OiJnsJ_YW4O1iNu2c_K6q3-QKJzHEV2v2QR6kKuebkUPI-k8JMnuHP8/s1600/P1030354.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Lichfield Cathedral December 2014</b></span></td></tr>
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<b> December 3rd</b><br />
<b> 3.30p.m.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
Here I am sitting at the desk in our loft bedroom, which used to be first of all, Matt's room, then Alan's. So many memories contained up here.<br />
I'm looking over the rooftops and trees in the fading late afternoon light.<br />
The birds have already gone from the garden, and apart from the pink-pink-pinking sound of a lone blackbird, everything is still.<br />
The low sun, now sinking slowly on the horizon, is catching the rooftops and tips of the trees with a warm deep-golden glow.Some rogue rays glinting on the edge of one of the houses in the distance.<br />
The sky was a piercing cold blue earlier today, producing sharp edges and well defined outlines to trees and buildings in the clarity of the sharp air.<br />
There was a glorious sunset last night, heralding the frost to come.<br />
As I watch the light fade, wisps of white curl up into the atmosphere here and there, meaning most homes will be warm tonight. <br />
The year has begun to leave us, just as December arrives.........<br />
And with it the Christmas season begins in earnest. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsfzoiMbgkTmKX9h89mD4VevMLJazouQkVueN8pFMPzkxzhu1n5rOAJ72ZyGfXrUwWW2dJhRSWgOwezQe3aIckAwNeZVxbjmbwovbfaktuds-z9_rWaCFm1OB-cVP1iJYF_PquUAyGFkY/s1600/P1030367.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsfzoiMbgkTmKX9h89mD4VevMLJazouQkVueN8pFMPzkxzhu1n5rOAJ72ZyGfXrUwWW2dJhRSWgOwezQe3aIckAwNeZVxbjmbwovbfaktuds-z9_rWaCFm1OB-cVP1iJYF_PquUAyGFkY/s1600/P1030367.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Minster Pool. Lichfield December 2014 </b></span></td></tr>
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As we walked through crunchy leaves, and damp woody smells this morning, I thought that, for me, to see light shining through trees, to smell the damp countryside and look at a glorious blue sky, is such an escape from the frenzy of preparations which I are taking place all around me.<br />
Time to breathe, time to reflect, time to be thankful for all that we have, when so many, many more have far less.<br />
I love giving presents, and, yes, receiving them too, but not the the commercialism of Christmas as it appears today. <br />
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It will soon be dark.<br />
We are moving towards the shortest day in this part of the Northern hemisphere, when we pass the darkest point, and begin to move on into a new year and gradually lengthening days.<br />
Last weekend was the start of Advent. <br />
A time of preparation, in the church calendar, including the remembrance of Christ's birth in Bethlehem.<br />
We went to the Advent service in Lichfield Cathedral, last weekend, on a clear, cold night. The Cathedral partly illuminated against the darkness.<br />
At the commencement of the event, all the lights were extinguished. and we waited for the first candles to be lit.<br />
To sit in a totally dark, packed Cathedral, in silence until the first flickering flame appeared, was a very deeply moving experience. Gradually through the service, as the choir moved to different points in the nave and chancels, to sing each piece of music, symbolising the coming of Jesus, and His promised return again, more and more candles were lighted, until the ancient stones were bathed in their soft glow.<br />
Darkness to light so beautifully visibly demonstrated.<br />
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<b>Extract from Advent 1955 </b><br />
<b> by John Betjeman</b><br />
<br />
" <span style="color: maroon; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS';">An interchange of hunting scenes</span><br />
<span style="color: maroon; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS';"> On coloured cards, And I remember</span><br />
<span style="color: maroon; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS';"> Last year I sent out twenty yards,</span><br />
<span style="color: maroon; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS';"> Laid end to end, of Christmas cards</span><br />
<span style="color: maroon; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS';"> To people that I scarcely know -</span><br />
<span style="color: maroon; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS';"> They'd sent a card to me, and so</span><br />
<span style="color: maroon; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS';"> I had to send one back. Oh dear!</span><br />
<span style="color: maroon; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS';"> Is this a form of Christmas cheer?</span><br />
<span style="color: maroon; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS';"> Or is it, which is less surprising,</span><br />
<span style="color: maroon; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS';"> My pride gone in for advertising?</span><br />
<span style="color: maroon; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS';"> The only cards that really count</span><br />
<span style="color: maroon; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS';"> Are that extremely small amount</span><br />
<span style="color: maroon; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS';"> From real friends who keep in touch</span><br />
<span style="color: maroon; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS';"> And are not rich but love us much</span><br />
<span style="color: maroon; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS';"> Some ways indeed are very odd</span><br />
<span style="color: maroon; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS';"> By which we hail the birth of God.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: maroon; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS';">We raise the price of things in shops,</span><br />
<span style="color: maroon; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS';">We give plain boxes fancy tops</span><br />
<span style="color: maroon; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS';">And lines which traders cannot sell</span><br />
<span style="color: maroon; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS';">Thus parcell'd go extremely well</span><br />
<span style="color: maroon; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS';">We dole out bribes we call a present</span><br />
<span style="color: maroon; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS';">To those to whom we must be pleasant</span><br />
<span style="color: maroon; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS';">For business reasons. Our defence is</span><br />
<span style="color: maroon; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS';">These bribes are charged against expenses</span><br />
<span style="color: maroon; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS';">And bring relief in Income Tax</span><br />
<span style="color: maroon; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS';">Enough of these unworthy cracks!</span><br />
<span style="color: maroon; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS';">'The time draws near the birth of Christ'.</span><br />
<span style="color: maroon; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS';">A present that cannot be priced</span><br />
<span style="color: maroon; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS';">Given two thousand years ago</span><br />
<span style="color: maroon; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS';">Yet if God had not given so</span><br />
<span style="color: maroon; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS';">He still would be a distant stranger</span><br />
<span style="color: maroon; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS';">And not the Baby in the manger."</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPdI9jIBlzwnwDOk-W7TbYFlgxdcPrDIIU2jZk-rm1V8dNgU3tDEOkasnpxiGDpz81PLbpouMJyc9QsvlsEef2ekiZ7a9492oCTPGDThY-BRtgikifL4-rdgKwvPiuSloG92_9yBVRUhg/s1600/Mobile+pics+003.jpg" height="380" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="640" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Morning light through trees. 3rd December 2014</b></span></td></tr>
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<br />Vivhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05112209059565649656noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-692032851523860055.post-63406854243522657902014-08-07T14:10:00.002+01:002017-08-07T09:40:37.387+01:00Summer morning thoughts.................August 2014<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
One of the many pleasures I have enjoyed so far during this lovely summer, has been eating my breakfast at the patio table. The normal traffic sounds in August are muted and even now as I sit here at 8.00a.m. there is a stillness. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho5M9WY7nGQfrie0IicXI1ZbS9N-2GoBCeFddW0LdelCD2H2XtkK7EhRKVHNAd1R4UgfwmHYoXJ6vStmYZ79obnoCW85k0XFpO1NwU1tC0AjLOzlANli3WnCfCfrW8BF3mgj4dC_nlVcc/s1600/P1020396.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho5M9WY7nGQfrie0IicXI1ZbS9N-2GoBCeFddW0LdelCD2H2XtkK7EhRKVHNAd1R4UgfwmHYoXJ6vStmYZ79obnoCW85k0XFpO1NwU1tC0AjLOzlANli3WnCfCfrW8BF3mgj4dC_nlVcc/s1600/P1020396.JPG" width="400" /></a> </div>
I am listening to the atmosphere......a distant collared dove, then the tick-tacking of our resident robin in the undergrowth, his spring song now quiet apart from a short phrase or two...... <br />
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A fat wood pigeon waddles in the grass under the apple tree, where some of the fruit is already scattered, early windfalls. One or two are fit to eat, being very sweet and full of summer sun, but the apple tree now being quite ancient at well over 40 years of age, I usually leave them to the birds. The blackbirds especially enjoy them. </div>
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A slight breeze stirs the leaves of the silver birches.</div>
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Honeysuckle scrambles..... I love the distinctive smell of the small box hedge in the warmth, bluetits churring, a wren flies past, darting off into nearby foliage, and the sense of stillness punctuated only by the occasional car along our road. </div>
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Even my washing is hanging limply on the line. </div>
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We have had a "nursery" garden this summer, one of birds. A whole family of goldfinches coming to the feeders, their young ones have been amusing, fluttering their wings whilst making lots of noise pivoting from side-to-side at the same time......." feed me, feed me" ......was their cry.<br />
A pair of blackbirds have been coming to the bottom lawn to feed their one offspring, who is almost as big as the parents! They have a penchant for sultanas, and as soon as I have opened the blind on the kitchen door each morning, they have appeared....at times treating me to a burst<br />
of beautiful song from the vantage point of the fence. I stopped dispensing sultanas after awhile . but they come and enjoy the birdbath, splashing happily and preening their feathers. <br />
They forage in the shrubs, where there are a lot of small snails about. I watched the male crack open a shell the other morning, tapping it repeatedly on the patio flags, extracting the juicy snail from its home. <br />
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I am glad we have one young blackbird, after the fox scrambled up our climbing hydrangea at the front of the house and took two fledglings out of the nest hidden there, notwithstanding it was at the side of our lounge window at the front of the house. The latest pair of blackbirds are different, as the male has slightly disheveled plumage. The bluetit family have also fed their young at the feeders and splashed in the birdbath.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7rMMmBfFILDajBZBP2ON4KrRGcyIgrZ9kI9BG4Mc7AQLiHxODwJSf7V6-UJd_LkCb_E7jMIMu-5JF1nUM_wcC0JV3gxHT9cJzGz4XJMGxw738kUICNNofOxPHZRckNXe_rrrkmMjJI6E/s1600/P1020502.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7rMMmBfFILDajBZBP2ON4KrRGcyIgrZ9kI9BG4Mc7AQLiHxODwJSf7V6-UJd_LkCb_E7jMIMu-5JF1nUM_wcC0JV3gxHT9cJzGz4XJMGxw738kUICNNofOxPHZRckNXe_rrrkmMjJI6E/s1600/P1020502.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>The new wood pigeon nest being built by the summerhouse</b></span></td></tr>
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I love it out here. And yet, the stillness and quiet herald a shift in the seasons.By mid August the flowering plants are exhausting themselves, and we have had a period of days earlier on. where we had no rain for ages, days of endless sunshine and at times extremely warm. The flower beds were thirsty. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHXvRxFE_JhPzP_-GdlIyijDFFgmjG-Jfqio20PWGtF2UR0FuU2Wka_T4JwtWeOrZFwJTjXRIRn0wGxV0fNsCIKSSEn_Apl_-weqZfX5WFAPXKLBK-6jOXVwtSrBc9uJo4rRY4KXbEzGo/s1600/P1020506.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHXvRxFE_JhPzP_-GdlIyijDFFgmjG-Jfqio20PWGtF2UR0FuU2Wka_T4JwtWeOrZFwJTjXRIRn0wGxV0fNsCIKSSEn_Apl_-weqZfX5WFAPXKLBK-6jOXVwtSrBc9uJo4rRY4KXbEzGo/s1600/P1020506.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Nest building </b></span></td></tr>
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I am economical with watering, as I try to plant things that in the main, tolerate periods of dryness.<br />
The roses are very hardy, and love the sun. They have been glorious this year. <br />
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It is in the mornings now that I am noticing the shift of the season. I walked in the garden early the other day, around 6.30 a.m. and the air was like the water of a cool clear pool, slipping over my skin. Dew on the grass. A clear blue sky. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZjboRIOxLclCDdX3fVoli7qhXfEw_kKd_NirCijlYDYyAgbLYDfRd9SRaPt_gnQAhtrdVUhVWZq-BC5jtcOq83F3QvCCY4lTW6vR6TA4d_qC42GX9J1v-6Wn6SQTV_jFtoc5NvXBmaMU/s1600/P1020598.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZjboRIOxLclCDdX3fVoli7qhXfEw_kKd_NirCijlYDYyAgbLYDfRd9SRaPt_gnQAhtrdVUhVWZq-BC5jtcOq83F3QvCCY4lTW6vR6TA4d_qC42GX9J1v-6Wn6SQTV_jFtoc5NvXBmaMU/s1600/P1020598.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Father blackbird feeding his offspring</b></span></td></tr>
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I shift in my chair. The sun is now hot here in my garden retreat.<br />
Mornings to savour.Vivhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05112209059565649656noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-692032851523860055.post-16705974454276161622014-03-26T20:39:00.001+00:002014-03-26T20:47:12.734+00:00Letter to my dad.....written in March 2010. <br />This is the last letter I ever wrote to my dad. He was never to read it. It was returned to me by the staff of the residential home where he was living. The day after I sent it we had a call to say he was in hospital. So we left immediately for the long journey home. <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizVhTlATkU9GGT1LR_CpqDP18QyE62iucZwtVqPXxlSiX573UpY4AEtQULAP-B6yuzShrSoRIt6dQ6wcZNAaT8e7JJWFzjyZb5FPnOHLKyjpZy_NJ9z9bB9qspTnu9lA_v4JSKRpyzSGE/s1600/Dad+in+Paris+on+his+83rd+birthday.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizVhTlATkU9GGT1LR_CpqDP18QyE62iucZwtVqPXxlSiX573UpY4AEtQULAP-B6yuzShrSoRIt6dQ6wcZNAaT8e7JJWFzjyZb5FPnOHLKyjpZy_NJ9z9bB9qspTnu9lA_v4JSKRpyzSGE/s1600/Dad+in+Paris+on+his+83rd+birthday.jpg" height="640" width="456" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Versailles on his 83rd birthday weekend. September 2001 </span></td></tr>
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Saturday 20th March 2010.<br />
<br />
Dear dad,<br />
<br />
I know someone else will read this to you, but I wanted to send you something from the "Housel Bay Hotel" so here it is!<br />
I am sitting in the lounge having had my breakfast, overlooking the bay. The waves are heaving, and crash all round Bumble Rock. It was misty when we arrived yesterday, and the foghorn from the lighthouse sounded eerily through the gloom.<br />
This morning the mist is intermittent and when you step outside, the wind is howling around the foursquare stone building.The seagulls are all wheeling round.<br />
It is supposed to clear a bit later on, what mum would've called "fairing up a bit"!<br />
But, for now, it's good weather for old smugglers!<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMdNMzd2fy0e5jt7kG2T44GcPUYfCfXWm-LWhmOLTlfEF8q6MOAUxC04JKPEEePzY4jOSwnTzvL6kkGZ636zkWTovQapaAYU5uZT90nw1D5uhV2rT6mYNpHI8tW2M1DLlDihZ2MiSbvcs/s1600/Image+(6).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMdNMzd2fy0e5jt7kG2T44GcPUYfCfXWm-LWhmOLTlfEF8q6MOAUxC04JKPEEePzY4jOSwnTzvL6kkGZ636zkWTovQapaAYU5uZT90nw1D5uhV2rT6mYNpHI8tW2M1DLlDihZ2MiSbvcs/s1600/Image+(6).jpg" height="243" width="320" /></a>We'll most likely go over to St Ives, as tomorrow looks as if it will be a better day, when we can do some walking along the coastal paths.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAYfMS64Nl6urWd_Xvr07LEyLM5OOKMJdNjRso4Y0ULdrUq6oizPm3EDWj4C0HLDQCG4AKxnYAUZDMzFIrrb2KVNrqwM11BIJDfxgDYo7dbKwSFYdI1A5UaC18t4iqLA4jXSJ0DSocZeY/s1600/26064_381702641719_6940800_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAYfMS64Nl6urWd_Xvr07LEyLM5OOKMJdNjRso4Y0ULdrUq6oizPm3EDWj4C0HLDQCG4AKxnYAUZDMzFIrrb2KVNrqwM11BIJDfxgDYo7dbKwSFYdI1A5UaC18t4iqLA4jXSJ0DSocZeY/s1600/26064_381702641719_6940800_n.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Dad on the cliffs at Lizard Point. 2004 </span></td></tr>
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There are daffodils out on the cliffs just below the hotel, and when we were eating breakfast, a rather fat rabbit was foraging in the garden here.<br />
Alfred and Iona at the hotel were asking after you.<br />
It is the quietest here that they have known and we are the only ones staying at the moment. It's the result of the recession, which they said took longer to take effect in this area- hard to believe but there it is.<br />
I will try and phone again soon, as we are not in an area where our mobile phones work!<br />
They will work in Mullion.<br />
<br />
We had our lunch in Mullion yesterday, before coming here mid-afternoon. We stopped at the complex next to Trenance Farm Cottages, where there is a nice café, and also the Trenance Chocolate Shop, if you can remember that.<br />
It never alters on the Lizard, apart from the odd new houses being built. We love it, all weathers, from the warm and sunny, to the stormy and wild!<br />
<br />
It is a unique environment.<br />
Well, I'm running our of this sheet of paper so I will end here.<br />
Hopefully you will be all out of quarantine by now.<br />
<br />
I'll be coming to see you before long,<br />
<br />
Love Vivien and Stephen<br />
xxxx<br />
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Vivhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05112209059565649656noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-692032851523860055.post-83976205496906929402014-03-07T15:07:00.000+00:002014-03-07T20:10:12.592+00:00March. 2014. Today it feels like spring! <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Birthday daffodils from a friend. </span></b></td></tr>
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I was writing in my journal this morning, and I'll echo the words here in this blog.<br />
"Sitting here just after my breakfast, looking out at the back garden through the expanse of the patio window.<br />
The sky is clearing from it's overnight rain.<br />
Grey clouds mingling with white, and tints of veiled blue beginning to make their presence known.<br />
The two magpies,who are building a nest a couple of gardens along, have been here looking for twigs and small branches. Cocky, strutting birds, with a swagger, and a sheen of black and white plumage.<br />
Mother blackbird, of our garden pair, is digging up worms in the bottom lawn.<br />
She now overturns clumps of moss in here search.<br />
Father bird sitting on the pinnacle of the summerhouse.<br />
A fat wood-pigeon balances on a branch of our ancient apple tree, trying to reach seed from the feeders, but I have already placed them where the pigeons cannot reach.<br />
The light is returning to this part of our hemisphere, and a sense of spring after the wettest winter since records began.<br />
Father blackbird is now singing his beautiful song. A glimmer of sunshine brightens the green of the shrubs and box hedge, until it reaches the far boundary fence.<br />
A plane glides round in the sky on it's gradual descent to the airport several miles away." <br />
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After breakfast I went to buy a new pair of garden secateurs from a nearby centre in order to complete the spring pruning of the roses. The centre borders on some fields. As I was walking back to the car, I heard the liquid notes of a skylark, soaring up into the clear blue. The first I have heard this year. Such a joyful sound. I stopped to listen.</div>
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<h1 style="font-family: Georgia; font-weight: normal; margin: 10px 0px 3px; padding: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;">To a Skylark</span></h1>
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<span class="author" style="background-color: white; color: #4d493f; display: inline-block; font-family: Arial; letter-spacing: 0.05em; text-transform: uppercase;">BY <a href="http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/william-wordsworth" style="color: #043d6e; outline: none; text-decoration: none;">WILLIAM WORDSWORTH</a></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial;"></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
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Ethereal minstrel! pilgrim of the sky!</div>
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Dost thou despise the earth where cares abound?</div>
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Or, while the wings aspire, are heart and eye</div>
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Both with thy nest upon the dewy ground?</div>
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Thy nest which thou canst drop into at will,</div>
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Those quivering wings composed, that music still!</div>
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Leave to the nightingale her shady wood;</div>
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A privacy of glorious light is thine;</div>
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Whence thou dost pour upon the world a flood</div>
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Of harmony, with instinct more divine;</div>
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Type of the wise who soar, but never roam;</div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #505050; font-family: Georgia; line-height: 24px; text-indent: -1em;">True to the kindred points of Heaven and Home!</span></div>
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I came home and began to prune the roses, not needing a coat or jacket, with the sun warm on my face. Spring is beginning once more in that great cycle of seasons and life, with it the season of Lent, which began this week with Shrove Tuesday.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Tiger on my birthday in February.</span></b></td></tr>
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A group of us spent Ash Wednesday evening in a time of reflection, and shared Communion together. It was very special.<br />
So another season of the year unfolds................................................................ <br />
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Vivhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05112209059565649656noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-692032851523860055.post-27148519715497164912014-01-31T10:25:00.000+00:002014-01-31T10:25:21.067+00:00Snapshots of time. January 2014.At the moment, I have been fascinated each day by two magpies in a neighbouring tree, as they have begun to reconstruct their old nest. (This web photo shows one already finished.) They take several weeks, as it is a domed structure, and the inside lined with mud, which dries. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1aeOkNHfqF45v2-sU4_pL6Dg1IGFiz1xYD44ix0bc936F4AAqIBS6B4aD-xEsRAvhCDs5SW9pPhk9NvUuv-UIDUOvDvVgrg1cCAKPTxs-CGFhmawtQCZ-YgG36H5VyH3QfYAKeD83PWQ/s1600/magpie+nest.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1aeOkNHfqF45v2-sU4_pL6Dg1IGFiz1xYD44ix0bc936F4AAqIBS6B4aD-xEsRAvhCDs5SW9pPhk9NvUuv-UIDUOvDvVgrg1cCAKPTxs-CGFhmawtQCZ-YgG36H5VyH3QfYAKeD83PWQ/s1600/magpie+nest.jpg" height="255" width="400" /></a></div>
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I do not particularly like magpies, as they are noisy, in your face, kinds of birds which steal eggs and new chicks from other nests. That is nature I suppose, as each creature has to eat. They can't go out and buy their food. Yet as I can see them now from my window in the neighbour's tree, they are already busy at the beginning of this grey January day, bringing small twigs in their large beaks, then working together to place them exactly where they want them to be fixed. </div>
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They have my sneaking admiration for their diligence and effort, being completely focused on the task in hand. <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Early January. Afternoon sun. </span> </td></tr>
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As it has been some time since my last post, I thought I would simply attach photos of random things in January. It has been the wettest month for a century particularly in the South and South West of England. many places are still flooded. It has also been very mild, and the blackbirds have begun to sing early. I still have flowering roses! Here at least in the West Midlands we have not had the awful floods of Somerset and other counties further South. We did have some snow flurries yesterday, but nothing like the freeze of last January.<br />
The beginning of February traditionally seems to herald snow in the first two weeks, but we will have to wait and see................................in these topsy turvy seasons anything can happen. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;">......<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzk_S0UF-saqFYQlGF0XaGQUyhBIMA5Zews4VBcNLYBb7UV5l_AX9dWFpj_ngH6KZd179Rz3nkQLh6x5c1fbu2nF5slpE2jsCphlmR4zsaXbhRpb-6dA_12IUXpzAIYm3A82mSLaUFKKM/s1600/Irises+in+January..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzk_S0UF-saqFYQlGF0XaGQUyhBIMA5Zews4VBcNLYBb7UV5l_AX9dWFpj_ngH6KZd179Rz3nkQLh6x5c1fbu2nF5slpE2jsCphlmR4zsaXbhRpb-6dA_12IUXpzAIYm3A82mSLaUFKKM/s1600/Irises+in+January..jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Irises blooming! </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">A halo round the sun. </span> </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">January roses.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju2Ij7qyJGQUqjpjfuAl-NoQXf70HsrpG-kcJa9v6P4ci6Q_rNy1JTRYcc1cBh2tIj_fSRwHzaOezeJx7qnuVcMbT3AQQfxoQj7JbpW46Kgwr8oqUo8WsQ58SKJ58OlOyjAIxVziZ2GWE/s1600/P1010383.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju2Ij7qyJGQUqjpjfuAl-NoQXf70HsrpG-kcJa9v6P4ci6Q_rNy1JTRYcc1cBh2tIj_fSRwHzaOezeJx7qnuVcMbT3AQQfxoQj7JbpW46Kgwr8oqUo8WsQ58SKJ58OlOyjAIxVziZ2GWE/s1600/P1010383.JPG" height="417" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Moonlit sky.</span> </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Snowdrops in Cambridge. We spent a couple of days there on January 26th - 27th. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFERV9FRSKz67pfpc8-TKKLUAwyfFLAgDbGOyEU7eaMUpVQ7EBMYu8NswZCOGNC5KJfzefABLa8p_ZHHNlRQFYeHdF-TmL2fVgcTFnD7FRnO5cg1jvzXpmHw5T4vYXMQSSbGneOHCogPg/s1600/P1010403.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFERV9FRSKz67pfpc8-TKKLUAwyfFLAgDbGOyEU7eaMUpVQ7EBMYu8NswZCOGNC5KJfzefABLa8p_ZHHNlRQFYeHdF-TmL2fVgcTFnD7FRnO5cg1jvzXpmHw5T4vYXMQSSbGneOHCogPg/s1600/P1010403.JPG" height="155" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-size: small;">A morning walk. Moor Hall Golf Club estate. Sutton Coldfield. <br />Mid January. </span><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_sRg5UDTD8pTtmE7ombir7FAWVsVdl_If1GWzat9IDDxEUFbFXjagjjCrBWqBnXlJuMYtzgOZ-DrfWgMPHIK9XWWa37diQpSW7C96DN3TMWjc82MAaIkodCrR8tAqhRwFhj9-SFiq-nM/s1600/P1010428.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_sRg5UDTD8pTtmE7ombir7FAWVsVdl_If1GWzat9IDDxEUFbFXjagjjCrBWqBnXlJuMYtzgOZ-DrfWgMPHIK9XWWa37diQpSW7C96DN3TMWjc82MAaIkodCrR8tAqhRwFhj9-SFiq-nM/s1600/P1010428.JPG" height="162" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">King's College. Cambridge.<br />January 27th.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The magnificent King's College Chapel. <br />Cambridge. January 27th </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Nest building January 30th 2014</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Nest under construction in nearby tree.</span> </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Snow flurries. 30th January. </span> </td></tr>
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Vivhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05112209059565649656noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-692032851523860055.post-57435705778929995602013-12-17T20:59:00.001+00:002013-12-18T07:47:11.156+00:00December 17th 2013. <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCKNLhCtM2nDxAolDfvP_aC1GAoCGufjO8y4-xC74ZfuS2pm5Em8IvPcYO6I3wD5lPYyAVMZzOwfTuuHyjTLGcJYYLStQtZ6_fF88ksCUs9YURhI25B8M2F6i9VTRHG2Wy9yBO2omtrlM/s1600/P1010132.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCKNLhCtM2nDxAolDfvP_aC1GAoCGufjO8y4-xC74ZfuS2pm5Em8IvPcYO6I3wD5lPYyAVMZzOwfTuuHyjTLGcJYYLStQtZ6_fF88ksCUs9YURhI25B8M2F6i9VTRHG2Wy9yBO2omtrlM/s400/P1010132.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunrise early December</td></tr>
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I woke this morning snug and warm under the duvet. It was still dark at 6.30a.m. I listened to the song of a robin travelling through the stillness. Hubby was asleep at my side. Gradually the sky lightened imperceptibly bit by bit, until a piercingly bright clear blue sky appeared, and the last stars faded </div>
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It was cold outside. Frost on the cars. Ice in the birdbaths. </div>
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A glorious morning. </div>
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A small flock of greenfinches eventually gathered in the ash tree next door, taking what was left of the pendulous seeds. </div>
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Six redwings have appeared, and gather each day in the silver birch at the end of the garden. I love redwings. I wondered where they had begun their journey to our shores for the winter. I know that Scandinavia can be a starting point. The migration of birds in spring and winter never ceases to fascinate me. The why's and how's. There are still some things that scientists cannot readily prove. The goldfinches arrived to feed and squabble on the nyjer seed holders hanging off the old apple tree. </div>
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So the day began. </div>
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Christmas is everywhere, inescapable, lights, shops, cards, trees in windows, houses glowing in the dark, some of them probably overloading the National grid! Hard to escape the mayhem at times and remember the real meaning behind it all. </div>
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At lunchtime hubby and I and two good friends went to a lunchtime Carol Concert in the Cathedral in Birmingham. </div>
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It was in aid of the Make a Wish Foundation. <a href="http://www.make-a-wish.org.uk/">http://www.make-a-wish.org.uk/</a> which grants wishes to children fighting with life threatening conditions. </div>
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Once inside the Cathedral, facing the east window, you are faced with the beauty of the Burne Jones stained glass with sunlight pouring through. The colours are so vibrant. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI6I8DCE9FTFJX4TM_LXVTXeL4yWx16_THwj0huK6aLUmet2tf8S4319zXM12IZSelwFGWA7KXZel6B0pAvucozGSEzFecse4I3shZig_f_P-5Ybn-xPVkl_PA4WclLKCH_jA1UT5VCis/s1600/JS25999254-6139181Burne+Jones.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI6I8DCE9FTFJX4TM_LXVTXeL4yWx16_THwj0huK6aLUmet2tf8S4319zXM12IZSelwFGWA7KXZel6B0pAvucozGSEzFecse4I3shZig_f_P-5Ybn-xPVkl_PA4WclLKCH_jA1UT5VCis/s640/JS25999254-6139181Burne+Jones.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
The Choir, made up of mainly young lawyers from one of the City firms began to sing the Introit, " Jesus Christ, the Apple Tree " before processing down the nave to the familiar congregational hymn, "Oh Come all ye Faithful"<br />
I would not be able to count how many times down the years I have sung those familiar words, with various choirs and small groups, not to mention church carol services, from as far back as I can remember. They are timeless. Steeped in history.<br />
It was a treat to hear all those crystal clear voices, blending together in beautiful harmonies, singing traditional and lesser well known pieces.<br />
One of my own personal favourites has to be a John Rutter carol, "What Sweeter Music"<br />
It moved me so much that it brought tears to my eyes. So many memories contained in the emotion that rose up within me. I love to sing. <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiehsqpbaDMRl_AzRv70o_SrF314iwemiwzcFTjHEjN6cFU-hrUq1omG4cvDHu8kUCAOk2N_uNSskB3fN5lDZA0NbrzijvVBqR6BNcYilN7ilPS7yzN5MPQNuWzLF5LPzjdW0e8OH5Iuy4/s1600/P1010270.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiehsqpbaDMRl_AzRv70o_SrF314iwemiwzcFTjHEjN6cFU-hrUq1omG4cvDHu8kUCAOk2N_uNSskB3fN5lDZA0NbrzijvVBqR6BNcYilN7ilPS7yzN5MPQNuWzLF5LPzjdW0e8OH5Iuy4/s400/P1010270.JPG" width="310" /></a> Time to reflect.<br />
Time to stop.<br />
Time to remember.<br />
Time to celebrate the Christmas story once again.<br />
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This evening I went out in the neighbourhood to deliver the last of the cards by hand. I met three other folk engaged in the same task.<br />
There was a huge moon in the cold sky. Glimpses through windows of twinkling Christmas trees and cosy rooms. The night air cold and clear.<br />
After being invited in to a couple of the houses where I was delivering cards, and having a cup of tea in the last one, it took me longer than I expected! But that, for me, was a bonus.<br />
It's always a pleasure when someone opens the door and beams at you saying, " Come in, I'll put the kettle on"! <br />
And so back home to the warmth and lights of our own Christmas tree twinkling in the darkness................Christmas approaches........... Vivhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05112209059565649656noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-692032851523860055.post-7375639827495941612013-11-10T14:55:00.002+00:002013-11-10T14:58:41.260+00:00November already!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Well, November is here! </div>
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Everyone is talking about the approach of Christmas. </div>
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It does not seem that long ago that we were watching the autumn unfold. As we turned our clocks back one hour at the beginning of the month, it really did signal the end of a glorious summer and autumn,and heralded the onset of winter.</div>
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The weather changes,and I often feel like hibernating! My days spent in the garden or outside curtailed when the sun begins to lower in the sky around 3.15pm.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTc_lcUE2vKJEu0XEja12AZdy86JyTOZw4AUk7hKbnECoEAHOp_IZsIJMsYLIDyl2770VqrocGr8sVKahTyufNtV-T6P187-_fZNFXtDeRIJYzNeh9h8imeFh7FNtfsHX2xcZKk3WY1lA/s1600/P1010029.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTc_lcUE2vKJEu0XEja12AZdy86JyTOZw4AUk7hKbnECoEAHOp_IZsIJMsYLIDyl2770VqrocGr8sVKahTyufNtV-T6P187-_fZNFXtDeRIJYzNeh9h8imeFh7FNtfsHX2xcZKk3WY1lA/s400/P1010029.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
But it made me think about painting once more.So I got out my brushes and began...<br />
thinking I would perhaps make a Christmas card from a photograph of the hills where I used to live in Rossendale, Lancashire. On a very wet, dripping, half light day, I took myself off to the loft room and settled into becoming completely absorbed in my task. Time did not matter......So although we mourn the loss of sunlit summer days, and a glorious autumn now on the wane, there is opportunity to create, and to sit and read a good book. Snuggled and warm. Sounds idyllic doesn't it!<br />
I fully appreciate for others it is not so. For me it one of the pleasures of being in my mid 60's, where I value the time to "stand and stare....."<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUAzdmWenXJagrM5uzCqGBZwrSEPzq-APY-z8xSK20S2Mcr5xeT6ZuXhamWiNmkgmow9_y8HWWJdATQ7twquL_8TU0fTK2usBre1z9_68A8WSSg53N_jUKyo9ruWM0nD9Hdsn6M1p65mc/s1600/P1010030.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUAzdmWenXJagrM5uzCqGBZwrSEPzq-APY-z8xSK20S2Mcr5xeT6ZuXhamWiNmkgmow9_y8HWWJdATQ7twquL_8TU0fTK2usBre1z9_68A8WSSg53N_jUKyo9ruWM0nD9Hdsn6M1p65mc/s400/P1010030.JPG" width="318" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Cherry tree leaves glowing in the November <br />sunshine. </span></td></tr>
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Today is Remembrance Sunday in the United Kingdom. <br />
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I always watch the special service which takes place in London. My own father having been in the Army and gone across to France on D-Day in WW2. He never talked about all he had seen, becoming quite emotional, and declaring that war is horrific and although he decided to fight for his country against the tide of Hitler's reign, it left a long and deep running scar. Remembrance Sunday to him was sacred. All he wanted us to know was that we should not forget the sacrifice of so many lives. And his hope that there would never be another war.................. </div>
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So I and countless other children growing up in the 1950's lived with rationing, but a land free of bombing raids and destruction. A childhood I personally now look back on with great affection. Our dad of course did return........ <br />
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Now the war is against hidden enemies and carried out with all the latest technical equipment and arms available. A continuing struggle with extremism and man's inhumanity to man.<br />
So we take the time to remember and never forget. <br />
<a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-24887778">http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-24887778</a><br />
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Vivhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05112209059565649656noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-692032851523860055.post-55067638722221151102013-10-15T08:06:00.000+01:002013-10-15T08:06:36.323+01:00A very special post box.........Long ago in the mists of time, a young man of 18 was heading up to Cambridge University in the October of 1970.<br />
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He had not long been going out with a young lady of a mere 22! </div>
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That young lady was of course myself. </div>
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In those days neither of our parents had a telephone, nor had we internet, mobile phones or any other devices which gave us instant access to communicate with each other.<br />
This meant we wrote to each other, mostly daily, for three years, when Stephen was at Churchill college.<br />
These letters are now numbered, dated, and kept in a box. Very special memories.<br />
This blog has been prompted by our friend's daughter going up to Cambridge University this past week.<br />
She has instant access to all her friends and her family, via Facebook and mobile, amongst other things. I sometimes wonder if letters will become obsolete, notwithstanding the actual price of a stamp!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDhvzT2aqzLS5WeH9j1n0c-LdKbrGSDKdtVCAlTVFEntzotBdIAagtIBOnhO9FO8qdjq05LMKpZRgqJMK_eZDuDRtVtl-CvMGBsd6S8ZMPFETmz3TQTKa07jW_RVSzNbzF_aNG_l8pLDQ/s1600/1383231_1401221900111723_1121772686_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="392" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDhvzT2aqzLS5WeH9j1n0c-LdKbrGSDKdtVCAlTVFEntzotBdIAagtIBOnhO9FO8qdjq05LMKpZRgqJMK_eZDuDRtVtl-CvMGBsd6S8ZMPFETmz3TQTKa07jW_RVSzNbzF_aNG_l8pLDQ/s400/1383231_1401221900111723_1121772686_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stephen at the post box in 1971<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9ZTLZmR3sIrVK_ABKncfiyJSVYBwfRqvOmvDdSzOv2-yiKYlTGr5r8-5YeJ2soOFA50P0OyKe88km88LZqQ6MoLqt-7WsmHQlSLmx1YVhkJGp8ACMBGm-XrAe2fopXsRa4WtvPV8SpLI/s1600/DSCF4351+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="401" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9ZTLZmR3sIrVK_ABKncfiyJSVYBwfRqvOmvDdSzOv2-yiKYlTGr5r8-5YeJ2soOFA50P0OyKe88km88LZqQ6MoLqt-7WsmHQlSLmx1YVhkJGp8ACMBGm-XrAe2fopXsRa4WtvPV8SpLI/s640/DSCF4351+-+Copy.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHTNGxr9PSFc3S7tN1425jYPWr47WnqeHWUYKizWdQJLjUMTKVNYzLl4Zyw23AXhJE6tMkmZFH5SRObC2mp-5t44F733CR910xYdRSkuCgZILi4hVqMbZzcGxjs2J3LPNzvKqX-7FDhOk/s1600/DSCF4351.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHTNGxr9PSFc3S7tN1425jYPWr47WnqeHWUYKizWdQJLjUMTKVNYzLl4Zyw23AXhJE6tMkmZFH5SRObC2mp-5t44F733CR910xYdRSkuCgZILi4hVqMbZzcGxjs2J3LPNzvKqX-7FDhOk/s640/DSCF4351.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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However, Stephen and I survived his first term apart for 8 weeks. I was a young primary school teacher living at home, which was in Rossendale, Lancashire, many miles, or so it seemed then, from each other. <br />
The letters dropping on to the mat each day were anticipated with a sense of warmth.<br />
We got engaged on Christmas Eve 1970, and when he went back to University in January 1971 there was a 7 week postal strike. It was so hard. We relied on a 3 minute phone call, me from a phone box in the next avenue to our road, and he having to book or wait his turn in halls.<br />
Yet we still wrote to each other most every day, and at the end of the strike, we each posted a big fat packet of letters! <br />
So as you can see, should you be reading this blog, the post box in the photo is very significant. It is Just down the road from Churchill College in Madingley Road, and I wonder if it is still there!<br />
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Vivhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05112209059565649656noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-692032851523860055.post-63541900793218326132013-10-01T19:39:00.001+01:002013-10-01T19:39:03.384+01:00Last day of September in the garden... First day of October, Baddesley Clinton, National Trust gardens<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs1EJpkkykfdm0RZO6XFDi67ECWdQMYVBnBeDLV7UZyy8PeK6Bu-C06hr_zidS5sjv7oheuKlvlVHTK8z97RJaVhKR-rHqSi4Sgrb55EYdv34dQTd4Tr9206macPF8015yQ_MryRb-DDU/s1600/September+30th.++(1).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs1EJpkkykfdm0RZO6XFDi67ECWdQMYVBnBeDLV7UZyy8PeK6Bu-C06hr_zidS5sjv7oheuKlvlVHTK8z97RJaVhKR-rHqSi4Sgrb55EYdv34dQTd4Tr9206macPF8015yQ_MryRb-DDU/s400/September+30th.++(1).JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">"Birthday Boy" rose.<br />Bought for my dad on his 90th birthday.<br />Now in our border. </span></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4uj32LPhUf3FN_tyPTg3JyGMOQQcOY-AZLWL_fcXLsNa50OEogyJrKDEN0txE-d5reL5O2JEfTP-_yJBxAVTv10lKsROQtlwZDyS-OxcvJnpc5mUQ8YpM06c57JCw8XNdXrtNfqwxmSI/s1600/September+30th.++(3).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4uj32LPhUf3FN_tyPTg3JyGMOQQcOY-AZLWL_fcXLsNa50OEogyJrKDEN0txE-d5reL5O2JEfTP-_yJBxAVTv10lKsROQtlwZDyS-OxcvJnpc5mUQ8YpM06c57JCw8XNdXrtNfqwxmSI/s400/September+30th.++(3).JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQHFBiptpZRpI1Ea1UOTgmChOpndE_QSbPy0muBUx2VPswBzISMYJNEemFxT3Km2-VKI3xqpouLdYs32CG4Xk8C5PgrdWTQggEMhdEV4ZbMiljllDu6wLdwdSPfUWHCsCE43gVPS0lWrU/s1600/September+30th.++(5).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQHFBiptpZRpI1Ea1UOTgmChOpndE_QSbPy0muBUx2VPswBzISMYJNEemFxT3Km2-VKI3xqpouLdYs32CG4Xk8C5PgrdWTQggEMhdEV4ZbMiljllDu6wLdwdSPfUWHCsCE43gVPS0lWrU/s400/September+30th.++(5).JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv8Rxea-FVhgOn7ikDCOdjDCYkaktzWQhMGtAj_pi2Mnne6ZEhZn0hML6atxQwvD7wJ3SvUwTMQcUk-viGXyCVrqk_K7tmILNIyKs_q0vthlGjpyn2zwsOPZze1a88_tdWE9vG_T3gOoA/s1600/DSCF4188.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv8Rxea-FVhgOn7ikDCOdjDCYkaktzWQhMGtAj_pi2Mnne6ZEhZn0hML6atxQwvD7wJ3SvUwTMQcUk-viGXyCVrqk_K7tmILNIyKs_q0vthlGjpyn2zwsOPZze1a88_tdWE9vG_T3gOoA/s640/DSCF4188.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Dahlia border Baddesley Clinton</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Victorian vegetable garden. Baddesley Clinton</span></td></tr>
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<br />Vivhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05112209059565649656noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-692032851523860055.post-35515266068051841322013-09-29T09:58:00.003+01:002013-09-29T09:59:21.036+01:00 Sunday Morning...........towards October <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The house is quiet and Tiger has come in from his nocturnal wanderings, wherever he happens to go, and has gone into the loft to curl up on a chair and sleep. Hubby is still asleep. </div>
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I have had a cuppa, and decided to address my neglected blog musings. We did have, still have, an extension of the summer weather. A few blips this past month here and there,but not many. My friend complaining that her garden is dry. Me thinking the other day, I need to water the border plants. I shall redeem them today! </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Yes, there was more tea in the pot! </span></td></tr>
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Colour is everywhere outside the window. The roses are still blooming, and I dead headed most of them before we went on holiday once more at the beginning of the month. We returned after a couple of weeks to a bright display and more sunflowers smiling at us. Even though I planted the seeds late after the awful long bitter winter, the warmth and sunshine of the last few months has encouraged them to grow late in the season. <br />
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Today I will spend in the garden. I need the solace sometimes. It is a place where I go when I withdraw for a time. I miss my lovely oldest son and that will never change. September containing the anniversary of his death, seven years ago this year. I have so enjoyed the summer, and know it one he would've loved. Only yesterday was one of those times when the pain of loss returned unexpectedly. Sparing the details here.....I write another blog all about Matthew, a place where I can express my thoughts in a far more personal way. This blog is not for that. More of an on-line journey through the year, encapsulating random ideas and the passing of the seasons. I enjoy looking back once I reach December.<br />
Hard to imagine now just how much we all longed for last winter to end. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">"Simply the Best" rose. Aptly named</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">"Ingrid Bergman" flowering again</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Autumn sunshine on "Sir Cliff Richard"</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Tiger relaxing once more, having finally forgiven me<br /> for putting him into the cattery when we went to France </span> </td></tr>
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October beckons.........Vivhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05112209059565649656noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-692032851523860055.post-9618027778854932712013-08-31T21:17:00.003+01:002018-02-19T17:02:23.833+00:00Eve of September..... <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2bU4C5Qklqyc36b5KaKbmpMPV94gaPOF6eX_bcEBK6K2U3uxJKLARnVts1AcY4fi3NasiN3euahVn03Lva4MbyHFugC9n9sFvzjUUrBGz0YH0X6EYJpvZ47tW1OK_pWutMpJulhIxXbo/s1600/2013-07-05+11.55.47.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2bU4C5Qklqyc36b5KaKbmpMPV94gaPOF6eX_bcEBK6K2U3uxJKLARnVts1AcY4fi3NasiN3euahVn03Lva4MbyHFugC9n9sFvzjUUrBGz0YH0X6EYJpvZ47tW1OK_pWutMpJulhIxXbo/s400/2013-07-05+11.55.47.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mulllion Cove. Cornwall. June 2013 </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The most Southerly thatched cottage in the UK</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our family on Mullion cliffs</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cream tea in Grange in Borrowdale, Lake District, <br />
Cumbria. UK July 2013 </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lake Side. Keswick. Derwentwater. Lake District<br />
July 2013 27C!! </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Garden in late June</td></tr>
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I have really enjoyed this summer!<br />
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It has been one we will savour for a long time and certainly in the winter months ahead.</div>
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The last summer we had which was warm, hot even, and sunny, was 2006.</div>
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Although this one was slow to unfold, it gradually spread out in long warm days, blue skies, and dreams of beach holidays at home in this country became a reality, not a distant dream.</div>
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There was rain, yes, but not the prolonged deluges of previous years.</div>
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I have not worn a coat, only needing a cardigan if the mornings and evenings became cooler. </div>
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At times I have needed an umbrella, but that was good as it meant I did not have to water the garden!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtZYC7vpBYq-A1GIfkQUPVJTUDk_SdntMnGI8jRnaZXiFUx24Uq1IPcREiWRgMB9AyNO9jSJubPgh_QNV7mqnuC36VP07ihcWAz28o73uC1FLyIx2L_QcPz40UmXmcDQnCeZg9W9ZunF8/s1600/P1000655.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtZYC7vpBYq-A1GIfkQUPVJTUDk_SdntMnGI8jRnaZXiFUx24Uq1IPcREiWRgMB9AyNO9jSJubPgh_QNV7mqnuC36VP07ihcWAz28o73uC1FLyIx2L_QcPz40UmXmcDQnCeZg9W9ZunF8/s320/P1000655.JPG" width="320" /></a>June saw us and our son and family, once again in our favourite place on the Lizard in Cornwall. </div>
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After 20 years of going to the same place, we all booked again for 2014!</div>
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July saw us celebrate our 40th wedding anniversary, with a short break in the Lake District, near Keswick. It was scorching hot, extremely unusual for the Lakes! The temperatures each day were 27-28C and the lake shimmered in the heat. </div>
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We were outdoors morning till evening, after breakfast. Our lovely hotel was in a quiet secluded spot on the lake shore, hidden from the nearby road. </div>
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40 years ago we spent our honeymoon in Keswick and decided to take a trip down memory lane!</div>
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It was a special time, remembering all those years.</div>
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I had been to Nyons in France in mid June, with my friend Cecilia, to our usual language school.But for once I decided not to do the intensive week's course and whilst Cecilia slaved away, I was able to be out and about, in the old place, being back at the house for meals and the trips out to places of interest arranged by our hosts, who are now like old friends.</div>
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The photos of that trip are on my flickr site so I've posted the link below, should you, (if anyone is reading this!) care to take a peek. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLM1YtdEnjOGDzEzaeq6-Snnd_A-YjtGXr2k4rd7T_dbaFY3RtyipnZmXlb7Ss-LaS8XrGv2KjZvD62FG8r4BnJZlfdGEbh3merGkxTUDeoTcp4Vbk2NiUWaMqKmMA0LpgLvu-59dzkrw/s1600/P1000667.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLM1YtdEnjOGDzEzaeq6-Snnd_A-YjtGXr2k4rd7T_dbaFY3RtyipnZmXlb7Ss-LaS8XrGv2KjZvD62FG8r4BnJZlfdGEbh3merGkxTUDeoTcp4Vbk2NiUWaMqKmMA0LpgLvu-59dzkrw/s320/P1000667.JPG" width="240" /></a> I will stop here. It is September 1st tomorrow, and I did not want to let the summer slip past without writing a blog!! </div>
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I have been enjoying being outdoors so much, writing has been non-existant! </div>
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Maybe I won't leave it so long this time..........that is unless we have an Indian summer! </div>
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lancs-lass/sets/72157634364002892/with/9152076391/">http://www.flickr.com/photos/lancs-lass/sets/72157634364002892/with/9152076391/</a><br />
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Vivhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05112209059565649656noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-692032851523860055.post-21351639696561476142013-05-21T09:21:00.001+01:002013-05-21T09:21:27.360+01:00Snapshots of April and May. 2013.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Deep crimson rhododendron blooms.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2AdvXJIuVhjrKk2wCl1hfvlgYnphsfaJKXoUYtnopVsPrRWaTRC5UjLqj4fW0pV6ucSPUqRqj2AfxWUlPRBXtRdEUrD6hv8AEr2YJmIHKrxynRByHx1sEK-OVI_GoalDFytR5AAUw-b4/s1600/2013-05-01+16.48.03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2AdvXJIuVhjrKk2wCl1hfvlgYnphsfaJKXoUYtnopVsPrRWaTRC5UjLqj4fW0pV6ucSPUqRqj2AfxWUlPRBXtRdEUrD6hv8AEr2YJmIHKrxynRByHx1sEK-OVI_GoalDFytR5AAUw-b4/s640/2013-05-01+16.48.03.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Magnolia stellata in our garden</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A watchful cat in the school grounds </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Canal boats. King Edwards Wharf. Birmingham.<br /><br /></td></tr>
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<br />Vivhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05112209059565649656noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-692032851523860055.post-89703380087099134992013-05-21T09:02:00.000+01:002013-05-21T09:09:23.316+01:00A morning walk......Monday 20th May. 2013 It was such a lovely May morning that I left the housework to itself, (not difficult in my case!) and took myself out for a walk. There is nothing quite like the scent and sound of May in full bloom. The birds are now in full throated song.The new leaves so fresh, filling the trees with all the variations of green that could possibly be painted.<br />
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The smell of May was heady. Newly cut grass verges in the damp air. The day had begun with a slight mistiness and humidity, which enhanced the scent of the bluebells as I passed by, and highlighted the sense of the overwhelming reappearance of flowers, blossom, leaves, responding to the sap rise and their own rebirth. </div>
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And how is it, that this time with the season being so late, everything seems so much more vibrant, with late daffodils mixed in with bluebells and apple blossom, tulips and lilac blooms. </div>
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Nature has a way of surprising us all. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bluebells. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A glorious bank of azaleas and rhododendrons</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tiger cat waiting for his lunch.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Apple blossom now out in our garden</td></tr>
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Vivhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05112209059565649656noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-692032851523860055.post-63865516576782210742013-05-14T09:37:00.000+01:002013-05-14T09:37:51.330+01:00Maytime has at last unfurled the leaves. I find it amazing that after what seemed like an endless winter delaying the start of spring by at least two to three weeks, the trees and plants have suddenly burst into life.<div>
The cherries especially have been particularly beautiful. </div>
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I have not written much here lately having had a bout of viral illness which has settled. I had not had very much energy. </div>
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So, as the first Bank Holiday in May approached we all looked to the weather......as traditionally here in the UK these particular weekends are not renowned for being particularly sunny and warm, quite the opposite! </div>
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I am certain that the lovely weather which arrived, briefly but very welcome, made everyone collectively smile and relax! It lifted the spirit. <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Bank Holiday Monday 6th May 2013 8.30a.m.</b></span> </td></tr>
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As my favourite poet has written<br />
" There never was a finer day,<br />
And never will be while May is May.<br />
The third and not the last of its kind;<br />
But though fair and clear the two behind<br />
Seemed pursued by tempests overpast;<br />
And the morrow with the fear that it could not last....."<br />
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<b>May the Twenty-third</b><br />
<b>Edward Thomas.</b><br />
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So, even as he was writing in the days just at the beginning of the First World War in 1914, he, like me, watched the skies and wondered how long the beautiful days would last. <br />
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He has a lovely line in the same poem which says:<br />
" Spring could do nothing to make me sad.<br />
Bluebells hid all the ruts in the copse,<br />
The elm seeds lay in the road like hops,<br />
That fine day, May the twenty-third"<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Goldfinch on my nyjer seed feeders</b></span></td></tr>
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So, as I watched the goldfinches on my feeders, and saw the cherry blossom finally appear, I smiled and enjoyed the day.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2VWdaYLkl8Lln3B1ibjv-TIsJNLA-jODRrQN20IR38tqUhhr39BC8b8NrwZ8YydruEcrFb5oZflyYV6voyPpPutg5GstLBbnf_4AhqIjjuN6i4nq104leTUwELTrPCO4ZX6bj_8hUQK0/s1600/DSCF3870.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2VWdaYLkl8Lln3B1ibjv-TIsJNLA-jODRrQN20IR38tqUhhr39BC8b8NrwZ8YydruEcrFb5oZflyYV6voyPpPutg5GstLBbnf_4AhqIjjuN6i4nq104leTUwELTrPCO4ZX6bj_8hUQK0/s640/DSCF3870.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Cherry blossom at last came out! </b></span> </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVSGAL17PxVaP2oE-aZQCTIcCIuWCJcgq5AH7RqU-hf2haMSnC0EH2nf8Jzs6Y8qnCypys3PzF6b3agavURUaWtZTFNzVdROXUcBDtswr5eZ3lHm_9knEoSok5suaWXTUDEorSBQkov1I/s1600/DSCF3871.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVSGAL17PxVaP2oE-aZQCTIcCIuWCJcgq5AH7RqU-hf2haMSnC0EH2nf8Jzs6Y8qnCypys3PzF6b3agavURUaWtZTFNzVdROXUcBDtswr5eZ3lHm_9knEoSok5suaWXTUDEorSBQkov1I/s640/DSCF3871.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Pink cherry </b></span></td></tr>
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Vivhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05112209059565649656noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-692032851523860055.post-75753142572606619872013-04-30T20:53:00.001+01:002013-04-30T20:54:19.293+01:00Last day of April 2013I haven't written anything in April so far, until today. Spring has been so very late in arriving. The silver birch leaves are usually out by the middle of the month. They are only just beginning to show their translucent green. As I took these photos today in the sunshine with the birds now busy nest building it felt so very good. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxJhSVHoIU2eJDfaMdDR7qrn4jbQYwErOieEnq6Cr9VY1n70aeK_WvCSGpmvt3qnEIeJ_2_VQQFE_XxJhLU9xj902CASstgJu2J6tenREftyOfwU2V1vEQmyOuNpv3PKAC-vjRe7x9F20/s1600/DSCF3801.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxJhSVHoIU2eJDfaMdDR7qrn4jbQYwErOieEnq6Cr9VY1n70aeK_WvCSGpmvt3qnEIeJ_2_VQQFE_XxJhLU9xj902CASstgJu2J6tenREftyOfwU2V1vEQmyOuNpv3PKAC-vjRe7x9F20/s400/DSCF3801.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Celandines.</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Leaves just beginning to unfurl on the silver birch </span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Roses and wallflowers beginning to grow<br /> after a long hard winter. </span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH5u5iLXryI0P7VC4kVQzAgye_mWhtNxTmYW6c3BdP9CyKtjcYUD2qjacuYZrCQ_4s7WkSJCynnyvk3_h9c2OT3otUElDEP7RLy3tzYJPftJQ1QLC8Yf7hvEmTOpHJRDFyuPUnPayWOB8/s1600/DSCF3804.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH5u5iLXryI0P7VC4kVQzAgye_mWhtNxTmYW6c3BdP9CyKtjcYUD2qjacuYZrCQ_4s7WkSJCynnyvk3_h9c2OT3otUElDEP7RLy3tzYJPftJQ1QLC8Yf7hvEmTOpHJRDFyuPUnPayWOB8/s640/DSCF3804.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Miniature plum tree has now got some blossom.</span></b></td></tr>
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Vivhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05112209059565649656noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-692032851523860055.post-26781376560021658802013-03-31T09:58:00.000+01:002013-03-31T10:01:16.958+01:00Easter Day. March 31st 2013<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I am sitting here with a cup of coffee in my "glamorous granny" mug (!) (anything less than glamorous is what I see in the mirror!)<br />
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The sun is pouring in through the bedroom window out of a cloudless blue sky, on a freezing cold day. </div>
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The cat is washing himself in a patch of warm sunshine at the corner of the bed. </div>
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The birds are singing, and it is Easter Day! </div>
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The shout goes out through out the world </div>
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"Christ has died, </div>
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Christ is Risen,</div>
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Christ will come again!" </div>
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Today in church we will celebrate His Resurrection. One of my favourite days of the year. A time of hope. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Summerhouse Saturday 30th March 2013</span></b></td></tr>
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Yesterday, we went for our usual walk and found, inspite of being buried under 10cms of snow, which then froze, and lasted for days, the crocus flowers still managed to survive the battering.</div>
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There they were at the side of the little road, cheerful, and opening up in the sunshine.</div>
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I began to feel, maybe, (just maybe?) winter could be losing it's iron grip. </div>
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In that sheltered spot the sun was warm on our faces, the wind did not bite to the core and I began to believe that slowly and surely, the Spring was advancing......</div>
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Just as Wordsworth wrote,</div>
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"My heart leaps up</div>
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When I behold a rainbow in the sky"</div>
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So my heart gladdens at these now tangible signs of a new season finally approaching and hints, miniscule, of warmer days.</div>
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The tension of the winter begins to unwind as the sun warms our skin again. Like a coiled spring relaxing. </div>
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I sat in the summer house for a short time in the afternoon, with a cup of tea, and could feel a hint of better days on the horizon, at long last. </div>
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I suppose having lived with leaden skies and frozen earth for what seems like so long this winter, anything that points to a change is seized upon to give us hope! </div>
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Yes, we still have extremely cold nights and frosty mornings, but the sun is gaining strength at long last. </div>
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Tomorrow is the start of a new month. April. </div>
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A bittersweet month for us. A month of new beginnings, lighter evenings, plants and trees bursting into new life, and what would have been our oldest son's 37th birthday on the 23rd. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhby0yxnz4H-fYBCbVxfSe0k-jXMAIcVDgV0l_StZvWfX3KDsu40GtAmZIu4mzSisRt7x3wFqTFeblcyxRxcGRP7zZtFgW9kNoxz1Q44N7cIHL2a_n8CaUFaMPf5bbCyHOs1szqF4ChSQA/s1600/2013-03-30+11.50.17+(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhby0yxnz4H-fYBCbVxfSe0k-jXMAIcVDgV0l_StZvWfX3KDsu40GtAmZIu4mzSisRt7x3wFqTFeblcyxRxcGRP7zZtFgW9kNoxz1Q44N7cIHL2a_n8CaUFaMPf5bbCyHOs1szqF4ChSQA/s640/2013-03-30+11.50.17+(1).jpg" width="480" /></a>But, today is Easter Day, and we know we will see him again sometime. Our "sure and certain hope in the resurrection to eternal life through our Lord Jesus Christ" </div>
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And tomorrow we are going to see our two lovely grandchildren, and our younger son and his wife. </div>
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Happy Easter everyone! </div>
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Vivhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05112209059565649656noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-692032851523860055.post-45282455011727130592013-03-29T08:34:00.000+00:002013-03-29T08:51:18.027+00:00Supper with friends in Holy Week <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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On Wednesday evening our group of friends gathered at one of our homes together, to share a meal with reflections on Holy Week.<br />
The preparations were carefully made and earlier hubby and I arrived to assist in the final parts in readiness for the others.<br />
The table had already been beautifully laid, with a lot of thoughtfulness and care.<br />
Spring flowers in small vases.<br />
A candle at each place setting.<br />
A small printed individual card with a beautiful photo, and the word, "Hope" written on the reverse.<br />
A little Lindt chocolate rabbit to take home.<br />
The glasses sparkled in the lights.<br />
It was truly beautiful.<br />
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A simple "Order of service" setting out readings and a prayer. <br />
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In the kitchen, a leg of lamb had been roasted, and the smells wafted through the rooms.<br />
We shared pitta bread, and tortilla wraps, in a nod to the Jewish tradition of unleavened bread at the Passover.<br />
Various hummus dips, and couscous, fillings for the wraps, a bowl of salad, and some red wine.<br />
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Assembling round the table, a prayer was read for the lighting of the candles. Again, a Jewish tradition. <br />
Two large ones were lit first, and then we each passed a taper round lighting our own individual tealights.<br />
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We shared a piece of bread together, passing it round the table after the Prayer for the Breaking of Bread.<br />
"This is My Body, broken for you,<br />
Do this in remembrance of Me"<br />
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A glass of wine was then poured.<br />
We passed that round to each other after the words<br />
"This is my Blood shed for you,<br />
Drink this in remembrance of Me,<br />
And be thankful."<br />
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The lamb was carved and shared, and we had a very special evening.<br />
Not without it's hilarity!<br />
But that's what friends are for.....laughing and crying together, sharing each others joys and sorrows. Encouraging each other.<br />
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Before the pudding was served, the tale was told of how, shortly after hubby and I arrived, there was a loud "OH NO!" from the kitchen. Not knowing what disaster had befallen our lovely hostess, we went to see what had occurred.......<br />
She was baking 8 apples, sprinkled with spices, raisins, and sugar in a ceramic dish in the oven, the aroma was mouthwatering............<br />
As she opened the door to take a peek, she could see that the apples had each exploded!<br />
There were bits of them stuck to the walls inside!<br />
But it wasn't a write off.<br />
My hubby took out the tray from underneath the ceramic dish, which was splattered with soft cooked apple, and got a spoon.....................<br />
The verdict, "Absolutely delicious", as he scraped apple from the tray and ate it!<br />
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The bulk of the apples was intact, and so the ceramic dish with the remains of the exploded apples was brought to the table and served out into individual dishes and topped with a choice of cream or ice-cream.<br />
What more could you possibly want! <br />
So we finished the meal, sharing the wine, and enjoying the ebb and flow of conversation.<br />
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Then hubby noticed he had accidentally set fire to his "Order of service" sheet! A slightly charred edge resulted! Not before it caused a lot of amusement.<br />
It is not the first time he has managed to set fire to a menu!<br />
Note to me:<br />
"Make sure he does not have a piece of paper anywhere near a candle at a meal in future!"<br />
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But as we left on an extremely cold frosty night, we all agreed it had been a very special evening.<br />
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Today is Good Friday. The beginning of Easter weekend.<br />
We are going to church this afternoon to a service of reflection on the Crucifixion, and all that Jesus suffered for us.<br />
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"Thine be the Glory<br />
Risen, Conquering Son!<br />
Endless is the Victory,<br />
Thou o'er Death has won!"<br />
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Vivhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05112209059565649656noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-692032851523860055.post-86288435470685061142013-03-28T19:20:00.000+00:002013-03-28T19:31:21.184+00:00Easter March 2013<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #676767; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.328125px;">Crucified</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #676767; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.328125px;"> Laid behind a stone</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #676767; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.328125px;"> You lived to die</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #676767; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.328125px;"> Rejected and alone</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #676767; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.328125px;"> Like a rose</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #676767; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.328125px;"> Trampled on the ground</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #676767; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.328125px;"> You took the fall</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #676767; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.328125px;"> And thought of me</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #676767; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.328125px;"> Above all</span><br />
Christ, our Passover lamb, has been sacrificed for us. <br />
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I Corinthians 5 v 7<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">March 2013</span></b></td></tr>
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Spot the difference in the two pictures of the climbing hydrangea , taken a year apart. Last March was the third warmest on record. So what happened this year?<br />
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The jet stream. apparently. </div>
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It is stuck South of the British Isles, so we are trapped in an area dominated by high pressure, freezing cold endless weather, and still very little sign of the real spring. The warmer weather is stuck tantalizingly out of reach. </div>
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This weekend we change the clocks, moving them forward one hour for the commencement of REAL spring. What a joke! We still have snow on the ground and yet more Arctic temperatures for the foreseeable future..........sigh............ <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>March 2012</b><br />I saw a pair<b> </b>of blackbirds mating on our garage roof in the snow the other day! Their internal clocks have been triggered, lack of spring or not. <br />The wood pigeons are billing and cooing in wintry conditions, the males bobbing their heads up and down in the funny courtship ritual that is unique to them. Chasing away other males who make an approach. But I reckon their nests may need thermal linings! <br />My daffodils have been struggling to flower, and although I have seen them in bloom in other places, I am still waiting for their buds to unfurl. <br />Some of them having been flattened by the frost and weight of snow. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">28th March 2013</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Forsythia March 2013</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Forsythia March 2012</b><br /><br />Meantime, I am slowly beginning to feel more like me. A lovely meal last night shared with friends at one of their homes.<br />That will be the subject of another post!<br />Watch this space........ </span></td></tr>
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Vivhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05112209059565649656noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-692032851523860055.post-5344786205131178522013-03-23T20:24:00.000+00:002013-03-24T19:08:03.192+00:00March 23rd 2013 Officially Spring! But maybe, by the 31st ,the coldest March since 1962! A day of more snow, 7.15am - 7.20pm. <br />
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On the 23rd March last year, 2012, we were basking in temperatures well above seasonal averages. Glorious wall-to-wall sunshine and Spring arriving earlier than usual. </div>
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This year the winter has been hanging on with a vengeance! </div>
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I for one long for the return of blue skies and warmer air. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7LXGhXw7Mr-QAeZV4sUqzaJjv-EUXCh90YtGJ1Sr7zvhQ3TAwYTEGgmfVSqj8hF2wp04gnRmrYyAjufjlGcOeSn2G357u2eqpthKIberXjnIfafgl_i26-yAPh2TTXz6XfYyOrhEwDDQ/s1600/23rd+march+2013+7.30am.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="257" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7LXGhXw7Mr-QAeZV4sUqzaJjv-EUXCh90YtGJ1Sr7zvhQ3TAwYTEGgmfVSqj8hF2wp04gnRmrYyAjufjlGcOeSn2G357u2eqpthKIberXjnIfafgl_i26-yAPh2TTXz6XfYyOrhEwDDQ/s640/23rd+march+2013+7.30am.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">7.30am. View from bedroom window</span></b>. </td></tr>
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The whole country has suffered terrible snowfalls, gale force winds, power lines down, flooding, and icy blasts of Arctic winds. </div>
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We shiver and slither along. </div>
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Not me, unfortunately this past week, I have been confined to the house with yet another virus, a trip to the doctor's, my hubby having to take me. </div>
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Night's without sleep, because of breathing problems........ok I'm indulging in a big MOAN! </div>
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But it makes me feel a bit better for that, so we'll gloss over the rest.</div>
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Once more,as I'm now confined to the spare room at night, or hubby would not be able to sleep, I have a catalogue of gadgets to keep me going through the small hours. And a small dispensary of stuff from the chemist!</div>
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Laptop, in case I feel like taking my mind off coughing, to watch tv programmes on i-player. </div>
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i-Pod for talking books or just soothing sounds of the sea, and my treasured mini digital radio, so I can listen to various programmes whilst trying to drift off into the Land of Nod. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">2.30pm. View from bedroom window</span></b></td></tr>
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It is amazing how many people are up in the night. They text in to radio programmes about all kinds of things. </div>
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And as I look out of my window, if I get up to make a foray down to the kitchen to replenish a flask of hot water, I have noticed that there are a few houses where there is a light on show all night. Usually a small upstairs landing window. Lights in the dark are comforting. </div>
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So my routine this past week hasn't really varied. I don't remember the first few days anyway! </div>
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But, by this evening, I have felt more like writing here again......so things are looking up!<br />
I am beginning to feel the urge to escape the confines of the house. So made a mini bid for freedom, about 7.10pm. (I know it wasn't perhaps the best choice, but I just wanted to smell some fresh air, no matter how cold!) I took my camera and wrapped up like a yeti, to walk down the garden path.<br />
It felt so good!<br />
Snow, for all we are detesting the weather, is beautiful as well as lethal.<br />
I took these photos of the silent evidence. <b> </b><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg58TtPvnLKAs8Tn0tTXMKi49ieVnUZybabKKr4oOyhgKHthTwMIy6FBPfrI7Tm4qshF38ZkiCcV5OemjCATESX2KcRK7YesWs27mjC0ZngbYhtPj9bv8j5xxgGium1wrK8u8FC_wma2cY/s1600/DSCF3726.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg58TtPvnLKAs8Tn0tTXMKi49ieVnUZybabKKr4oOyhgKHthTwMIy6FBPfrI7Tm4qshF38ZkiCcV5OemjCATESX2KcRK7YesWs27mjC0ZngbYhtPj9bv8j5xxgGium1wrK8u8FC_wma2cY/s640/DSCF3726.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">7.15pm</span></b></td></tr>
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And yet, I know, as I have known all this past week, that at 4.45am, (yes, so early!) the birds are beginning their Spring songs. They sing on in the cold, ice and snow, and gladden my heart.<br />
At least they know, that we reached the Spring Equinox this week, and at that paradigm shift they begin their annual rituals of territorial songs, and courtship. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih8VNA8qHKxy8kN4m_nBBj1IOFqjGApX2cONFFfE6OiIAo-7_7RPpf-vYxdoSn9xiCncCPRdHIwf7PkQvCElojq0gsNPhpYUDm01fzw0xQu16eRUxroGSOQSWNMFbe_W0Psih4cwDfNVM/s1600/DSCF3727.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih8VNA8qHKxy8kN4m_nBBj1IOFqjGApX2cONFFfE6OiIAo-7_7RPpf-vYxdoSn9xiCncCPRdHIwf7PkQvCElojq0gsNPhpYUDm01fzw0xQu16eRUxroGSOQSWNMFbe_W0Psih4cwDfNVM/s640/DSCF3727.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">7.18pm</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">7.20pm</span></b></td></tr>
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So, as we shiver and wait, surely, surely, it cannot "always be winter and never spring" to misquote CS Lewis's " It is always winter and never Christmas" in Narnia.<br />
Meantime, we wait..................<br />
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Vivhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05112209059565649656noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-692032851523860055.post-33973703959608368712013-02-17T17:10:00.002+00:002013-02-18T08:58:44.481+00:00 The Beatles "Please, Please Me." 50 years old on 11th February 2013 <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I was just 15 years old in the February of 1963. We had passed through one of the hardest winters in decades. January was the coldest month of the 20th century, at that time. </div>
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February came in with more snow, and a 36 hour blizzard which affected most parts of the country. It drifted in the gale force winds, and I can still remember that the snow completely covered up the side door of my grandmother's house. It had formed a snow "bank" as the wind blew on that side. </div>
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The front door was passable. </div>
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The road outside was impassable except for a track which people had made down the middle. </div>
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As I looked at it, it seemed like undulating waves of the sea which had frozen white. </div>
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Drift after drift, after drift, rippling towards me as I walked in the single pathway up the hill. The deepest parts of these drifts were almost 5 feet in height. The shallowest, like the dip in the waves, being knee deep. </div>
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I have no idea who cleared the snow to make a passage possible. </div>
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Into all this mayhem of a winter, came an explosion on the music scene which changed four young men almost overnight. </div>
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The Beatles recorded their album "Please, Please Me." at the Abbey Road studios in London, in just 12 hours. </div>
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And it catapulted them into fame.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">My own personal LP Now 50 years old!</span></b></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5vwgpNexW8y52GrEEmJ4kIImpWmyryVX4kiduWeNPV-NQkTctL9QTpXr3PiOakmL7Au9bqhBYzuGku4v16km2hdtGTfyiZTDb_6vYzW43mDmwLnIo9AYu-ig3yfxMUlQgyuaVA9Q5Tb0/s1600/DSCF3660.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="325" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5vwgpNexW8y52GrEEmJ4kIImpWmyryVX4kiduWeNPV-NQkTctL9QTpXr3PiOakmL7Au9bqhBYzuGku4v16km2hdtGTfyiZTDb_6vYzW43mDmwLnIo9AYu-ig3yfxMUlQgyuaVA9Q5Tb0/s400/DSCF3660.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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It was absolutely brilliant being a teenager at that time. The "Liverpool Sound" was everywhere, making the city fashionable, with it's "Cavern Club"<br />
I bought the LP and still have it today, along with "With The Beatles."<br />
Everywhere there was Beatles music coming from the radio and they appeared on TV. WE were all glued to the spot!<br />
Other groups began to emerge "Gerry and the Pacemakers", " The Hollies", "The Searchers", we couldn't get enough of them!<br />
Our small town boasted an excellent dance hall, and I saw The Hollies, and Billy J Kramer and the Dakotas perform live. It was great to be on the dance floor to such great sounds!<br />
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I went to see "Wayne Fontana and the Mindbenders", and on one bizarre occasion we spotted "The Animals" when one of them had come out of one of our local shops. This was just before they became very famous. </div>
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It put the North of England very much on the map! A lot of the new groups were from Liverpool and Manchester. </div>
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I was studying music as one of my GCSE exams, and I learned a lot about the Dominant 7th chords that the Beatles used! (Obviously not the only chords they used, but it was such a radically different sound then, to anything else we had heard.). </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW7NL72zr8PEW5beIvHRCe7ig9WH94grt9f6JgTlSpU77S9n6VrKRkrz02qTs8KNlPuPFfnD1m9ujAiClxibYxavm4rIQ5YpVqs_sB0joJJoFwVCyr0HF2cntRAMbhalPV5nvcTxzcc3I/s1600/February+1963.Burney+Lancashire..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="323" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW7NL72zr8PEW5beIvHRCe7ig9WH94grt9f6JgTlSpU77S9n6VrKRkrz02qTs8KNlPuPFfnD1m9ujAiClxibYxavm4rIQ5YpVqs_sB0joJJoFwVCyr0HF2cntRAMbhalPV5nvcTxzcc3I/s400/February+1963.Burney+Lancashire..jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Snow in February 1963, Burnley, Lancashire </span></b></td></tr>
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We danced to their music at parties,and on the sleeve of the LP is a stiletto heel mark where I had accidentally stepped on to the cover. Thankfully the LP was not inside!<br />
Looking again at some of the chart topping songs of that year, brings back so many memories.<br />
I sang Skeeter Davis' song "The End of the World" at one of our Grammar School concerts in the summer.<br />
The whole presentation being directed and performed without any staff help. Including a performance of Gilbert and Sullivan's "Trial by Jury". I and several of my musical friends were in the chorus.<br />
We did however, have our very own brilliant musician called Johnnie Iveson, who played as his first instrument, a trombone. So he and several others put together a band for the occasion, which was a great hit. <br />
He went on to make a name for himself in London circles, becoming principal trombonist with the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra in 1965. I attach a link to his profile.<br />
<br />
http://www.brasswindpublications.co.uk/acatalog/Iveson.html<br />
<br />
As I read the list below, of the UK hits, it transports me back to that brilliant time when, like the Shadows instrumental, it was fantastic to simply "Dance On" !!<br />
How the music stays in your head!!<br />
My dad was asked one day, as he went into his office in Manchester,<br />
<br />
"How come you are singing "She Loves You, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah!" ?<br />
<br />
"How on Earth do you know the words?"<br />
<br />
So he replied:<br />
"I have two daughters at home.......and it is played constantly!"<br />
<br />
Not such an old "fuddy duddy" hey! <br />
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<tr><td align="left" style="margin-top: 0px;" valign="top" width="50%"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span><b><span style="font-size: small;"> Some of the chart songs of 1963.</span><br /><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></b></span></td><td align="left" style="font-size: 13px; margin-top: 0px;" valign="top" width="30"><br /></td><td align="left" style="font-size: 13px; margin-top: 0px;" valign="top" width="50%"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td width="100">03 Jan</td><td width="224">Cliff Richard and The Shadows</td><td width="281"><a href="http://www.chartmagic.co.uk/lyrics/songs/19630103_The_Next_Time_-_Cliff_Richard.html">The Next Time</a> / <a href="http://www.chartmagic.co.uk/lyrics/songs/19630103_Bachelor_Boy_-_Cliff_Richard.html">Bachelor Boy</a></td><td align="center" width="0"><br /></td></tr>
<tr><td width="100">24 Jan</td><td width="224">Shadows</td><td width="281"><a href="http://www.chartmagic.co.uk/lyrics/songs/19630124_Dance_on_-_The_Shadows.html">Dance On</a></td><td align="center" width="0"><br /></td></tr>
<tr><td width="100">31 Jan</td><td width="224">Jet Harris and Tony Meehan</td><td width="281"><a href="http://www.chartmagic.co.uk/lyrics/songs/19630131_Diamonds_-_Jet_Harris_and_Tony_Meehan.html">Diamonds</a></td><td align="center" width="0"><br /></td></tr>
<tr><td width="100">21 Feb</td><td width="224">Frank Ifield</td><td width="281"><a href="http://www.chartmagic.co.uk/lyrics/songs/19630221_Wayward_Wind_-_Frank_Ifield.html">Wayward Wind</a></td><td align="center" width="0"><br /></td></tr>
<tr><td width="100">14 Mar</td><td width="224">Cliff Richard and The Shadows</td><td width="281"><a href="http://www.chartmagic.co.uk/lyrics/songs/19630314_Summer_Holiday_-_Cliff_Richards.html">Summer Holiday</a></td><td align="center" width="0"><br /></td></tr>
<tr><td width="100">29 Mar</td><td width="224">Shadows</td><td width="281"><a href="http://www.chartmagic.co.uk/lyrics/songs/19630329_Foot_Tapper_-_The_Shadows.html">Foot Tapper</a></td><td align="center" width="0"><br /></td></tr>
<tr><td width="100">11 Apr</td><td width="224">Gerry and The Pacemakers</td><td width="281"><a href="http://www.chartmagic.co.uk/lyrics/songs/19630411_How_Do_You_Do_It_-_Gerry_and_The_Pacemakers.html">How Do You Do It?</a></td><td align="center" width="0"><br /></td></tr>
<tr><td width="100">02 May</td><td width="224">Beatles</td><td width="281"><a href="http://www.chartmagic.co.uk/lyrics/songs/19630502_From_Me_to_You_-_The_Beatles.html">From Me To You</a></td><td align="center" width="0"><br /></td></tr>
<tr><td width="100">20 Jun</td><td width="224">Gerry and The Pacemakers</td><td width="281"><a href="http://www.chartmagic.co.uk/lyrics/songs/19630620_I_Like_It_-_Gerry_and_The_Pacemakers.html">I Like It</a></td><td align="center" width="0"><br /></td></tr>
<tr><td width="100">18 Jul</td><td width="224">Frank Ifield</td><td width="281"><a href="http://www.chartmagic.co.uk/lyrics/songs/19630718_Confessin'_-_Frank_Ifield.html">Confessin' (That I Love You)</a></td><td align="center" width="0"><br /></td></tr>
<tr><td width="100">01 Aug</td><td width="224">Elvis Presley</td><td width="281"><a href="http://www.chartmagic.co.uk/lyrics/songs/19630801_Devil_In_Disguise_-_Elvis_Presley.html">(You're The) Devil In Disguise</a></td><td align="center" width="0"><br /></td></tr>
<tr><td width="100">08 Aug</td><td width="224">Searchers</td><td width="281"><a href="http://www.chartmagic.co.uk/lyrics/songs/19630808_Sweets_For_My_Sweet_-_The_Searchers.html">Sweets For My Sweet</a></td><td align="center" width="0"><br /></td></tr>
<tr><td width="100">22 Aug</td><td width="224">Billy J Kramer and The Dakotas</td><td width="281"><a href="http://www.chartmagic.co.uk/lyrics/songs/19630822_Bad_To_Me_-_Billy_J_Kramer_and_The_Dakotas.html">Bad To Me</a></td><td align="center" width="0"><br /></td></tr>
<tr><td width="100">12 Sep</td><td width="224">Beatles</td><td width="281"><a href="http://www.chartmagic.co.uk/lyrics/songs/19630822_She_Loves_You_-_The-Beatles.html">She Loves You</a></td><td align="center" width="0"><br /></td></tr>
<tr><td width="100">10 Oct</td><td width="224">Brian Poole and The Tremeloes</td><td width="281"><a href="http://www.chartmagic.co.uk/lyrics/songs/19631024_Do_You_Love_Me_-_Brian_Poole_and_The_Tremeloes.html">Do You Love Me</a></td><td align="center" width="0"><br /></td></tr>
<tr><td width="100">31 Oct</td><td width="224">Gerry and The Pacemakers</td><td width="281"><a href="http://www.chartmagic.co.uk/lyrics/songs/19631114_You'll_Never_Walk_Alone_-_Gerry_and_The_Pacemakers.html">You'll Never Walk Alone</a></td><td align="center" width="0"><br /></td></tr>
<tr><td width="100">12 Dec</td><td width="224">Beatles</td><td width="281"><a href="http://www.chartmagic.co.uk/lyrics/songs/19631212_I_Want_to_Hold_Your_Hand_-_The_Beatles.html">I Want To Hold Your Hand</a></td><td align="center" width="0"><br /></td></tr>
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Vivhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05112209059565649656noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-692032851523860055.post-84460530746904733962013-02-10T16:14:00.003+00:002013-02-10T16:27:46.018+00:00February! A week of birthdays!<br />
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A Week of Birthdays! </h2>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Birthday bouquet.</span></b></td></tr>
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The first week of February begins for us in a rash of birthdays. Three in quick succession before we reach February 8th.<br />
There has been a sense of week long celebrations beginning with mine on the 4th. It was an extra special day, as we went to see our new granddaughter. She was born before the expected date of 7th, which would have meant one more event to cram into the first eight days!<br />
Libby Joanna made her entrance into the world in a precipitate hurry on 30th January. A sister for Samuel.<br />
The next birthday was on the 6th, our friend Rosie. More cake and presents enjoyed with friends that evening.<br />
Stephen's came next on the 8th and we spent the day having lunch with one friend by the side of a roaring log fire at a country pub nearby. In the evening, a lovely dinner spent in the company of another couple of close friends.<br />
<br />
So much for thinking maybe I would join "Weight Watchers"!!<br />
How is it whenever I think about it, I just gravitate to all the food that should be "forbidden" !!!<br />
Naughty but nice!<br />
<br />
Well, it WAS all our birthdays!<br />
<br />
At the end of the week on Saturday I found myself with a group of friends (organised by my hubby) making a clay sheep in a craft session.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Can you hear the concentration! </span></b></td></tr>
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We all enjoyed it very much, and await the sheep back from the kiln in around 15 days time.<br />
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We were guided by the artist who had set up the workshop.<br />
Afterwards, our group went for more lovely food and nibbles, and a glass or two of red wine, at Rosie's house. Although the nibbles in themselves were fairly substantial. (I think I have said before that our friends do not do things by halves!)<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Substantial nibbles!!</span></b></td></tr>
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The end of a thoroughly enjoyable week!<br />
<br />
All we are waiting for now as February is passing by, are more signs that spring may be fighting it's way in!<br />
This winter has seemed long. Today it is very wet, and hasn't really become properly daylight. Grey, dull and very cold. Cosy indoors.<br />
I finish with a poem from my favourite poet, Edward Thomas, as already, inspite of the weather, the rooks are beginning to build their nests in their familiar colonies. And the blackbird has begun to sing his sweet song early in the morning. <br />
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<br />
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 1.583em;">"Thaw" by Edward Thomas</span><br />
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Over the land freckled with snow half-thawed<br />
The speculating rooks at their nests cawed<br />
And saw from elm-tops, delicate as flowers of grass,<br />
What we below could not see, Winter pass. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Baa...aaa..rmy. (Before kiln firing)</span> </b></td></tr>
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Vivhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05112209059565649656noreply@blogger.com0