On Friday we had a Zoom chat with the new Membership Secretary (Butterflies) - a sort of extra briefing. Hopefully this handover will take. I also chatted to Jean and to Bea of the North, and the plumber fitted the new shower head in Col's bathroom. I had a Gym lesson - a session with my lovely young physio, who is kind and helpful and nothing like the fearsome gym mistresses of my faraway youth. She got me creaking painfully and slowly about and I have a new exercise to add to the twisty ones and Crush the Crisp Packet. I confessed that as yet not a single crisp had been harmed by my Crisp Crushing. The poor girl looked a bit discouraged.
Anyway, driving back I saw that the daffodils were out in Lobbs Wood. Had I only had the technology, i.e. if I could park the car in a smaller space than would be needed to park a couple of buses and if I was smarter than my Smartphone, there would be a photo of the Lobbsian daffodils heading this blog.
Every single one of them was a miracle of loveliness - more exquisite than a Tiffany jewel, with finer engineering than our latest fighter plane. The Creation is telling us more and more clearly that we have a Grand Creator. The Bible is telling us who that Creator is.
Fortunately, Captain B got some lovely snowdrop pics on his Thursday expedition which I am hoping to borrow. They too are miracles of loveliness and engineering. And it made me think of flower poems. For example, this mysterious and beautiful one, with a sadness about it. And its hard not to think about "the sadness that belongs to the world" at the moment. Its called The Lily and the Rose - by that prolific poet Anon (a cousin of that ubiquitous horse "also ran").
The maidens came
When I was in my mother’s bower,
I had all that I would.
The bailey beareth the bell away;
The lily, the rose I lay.
The silver is white, red is the gold;
The robes they lay in fold.
The bailey beareth the bell away;
The lily, the rose I lay.
And through the glass windows shines the sun,
How should I love, and I so young?
The bailey beareth the bell away,
The lily, the rose, I lay.
Text: Anon. 16th-century English
https://iowcantatachoir.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2021/08/Programme-Notes-The-Lily-and-the-Rose.pdf
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