Hello July . . .

 

The year is now half gone.  How did that happen?  For a few more weeks we shall enjoy the illusion of  summer, but gradually now, with each day that passes, birdsong will fade into muted twitterings, and the days will gradually shorten, imperceptibly . . .  at first . . . un-noticed, so caught up in the joys of summer we are . . . 

 

The countryside is filled with flowers of every kind and colour  . . . growing wild and free . . . clover, poppy, honeysuckle, pimpernel and meadow sweet . . .  bachelor buttons, agrimony, daisies, ragged robin and fading buttercups  . . . 

In a quiet garden where birds and flowers abound,

Speak gently and tread softly,

You walk on Holy ground.

For into every garden, God cometh secretly

His presence there disclosing

To all with eyes to see.

...

  

In the deep, deep woods there appears a feeling of heaviness, the deep drowsiness that follows fulfilment.  Where in June the earth appears in the height of her beauty, it slowly starts to fad . . .  but there is still much to anticipate   . . . the pageantry of the mid-summer garden, the harvesting of corn and fruit, but he who knows and is in tune with mother-earth and her moods will sense impending change in the air . . .  

not yet, not yet, we sigh  . . .  tis only just begun

but days pass, one upon another

and with them the

waning sun

...

 

The blaze of noon has passed . . . our faces turn towards the sunset of the year . . . but we won't think about that, no  . . . no  . . . we wander thigh high through wavy seas of sorrel, moon daisies, faded buttercups and feathery grasses, as wild poppies dance in the soft wind that whispers warmly across our skin,  Hedges are garlanded with honeysuckle and wild roses and lilybuds burst upon the pool. Lovely beyond all telling are the quiet fields in the evening hour . . . 

a picture to hang in the galleries of memory,

to come back to and gaze at when

the glory of the garden

has vanished

...

We have the last of the strawberries to enjoy and black currants to stain our lips and hands . . .  blueberries ripening beneath the sun, plums and pears and apples grow . . .  baby carrots to pull and thin, tomatoes ripening on the vine.  The bees buzz lazily,  bobbing between the bursting bloom of lavender . . . that intoxicating smell, and the hydrangea is bursting out into pink, blue and white blooms.  We need not think of the end just yet, there is still plenty to enjoy, and enjoy it we will.

Every year has its seasons, every season has its mood

Wild and stormy, gay and happy.

Tranquil, quiet and

subdued

...

Well, the physiotherapist seems to feel that my knee is just my arthritis flaring up, having been irritated and exaggerated by my tripping over the box.  I have been given yet another sheet of exercises to do with it, in hopes that it will improve.  And if it doesn't?  What then  . . . 

I feel quite, quite hopeless, and yet I know in my heart of hearts that it could always, always be much, much worse. I will just have to work my way through the pain, and hope that perhaps with time I will get so used to it that I no longer notice it. I wonder how long that will take? Every time I got up to do something last night, I told myself . . .  "Walk normal."  Try to walk like nothing is wrong, but it was very hard to do.  I have a husband who is 17 years older than myself, and who, at 78 almost 79,  can run circles around me.  I am supposed to be the one taking care of him.  It wasn't suppose to be like this.

 

But those thoughts are just me giving in to despair.

I will try hard not let it beat me. I won't give up. 

I won't. I'll do what I have to do

and I'll try harder.

I will

...

I need to remind myself that I am stone being polished.

A thought to carry with you  . . . 

 .° * 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ •
•。★★ 。* 。
° 。 ° ˛˚˛ * _Π_____*。*˚
˚ ˛ •˛•˚ */______/~＼。˚ ˚ ˛
˚ ˛ •˛• ˚ ｜ 田田 ｜門 ★
 *.˛.° ˛°. .

"Your yourself, 
as much as anybody in the universe, 
deserve your love and affection."
~Buddah     .° * 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 

Spiritual Enlightenment 

 

In The English Kitchen today  . . .  Patriotic Butterfly Cakes.  Happy Canada Day and 4th of July.   

Have a great Saturday!  Don't forget . . . 

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And I do too!