In May's Gaud Gown

The strange poem MAY by Karen Volkman begins this way:

 In May’s gaud gown and ruby reckoning 

the old saw wind repeats a colder thing.

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/55530/may-56d2373a7826d

Karen uses language in a wonderful way - very alive, very zingy - and, IF I am understanding her right (like much of current poetry it is on the obscure side) this is about how short our lives are now. That is what it says to me anyway, as another May comes to its end and I wither away in the freshness and the glory of the Spring.

We have heard that the daughter of our Texan friends will be travelling in the UK sometime this year and are hoping to see her.  We first knew her as a beautiful young teenager, and now she has just retired!   How strange getting old is. But I am very grateful to be here still. And, as you know if you read my blog, I do want to be here forever, to "inherit the earth" as Jesus promised.  And when he said that he was confirming the promises in the Hebrew Scriptures (Old Testament).

We have many happy memories of our times with her parents.  Camping in the desert in winter - we used to make a campfire in the evening - and Mary made a great chile and cornbread.  We had many weekend trips to Bahrain, we were in Oz together - at the Barrier Reef, and of course there were the Maldive dive trips.   

Which is a chance for me to promote my book Waiting for Gordo, which, while very far from a best-seller has garnered some good reviews on Amazon - some from real writers.

https://www.fantasticbooksstore.com/waiting-for-gordo-all-formats.html

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Waiting-Gordo-Sue-Knight-ebook/dp/B075WS4YFB

Captain Moth-Butterfly took Saturday off metal-detecting and spent the day at Kithurst Meadow finding loads of micro-moths to photograph.  See the Mint Moth which heads this blog.

I dreamt the other night of a white fluffy Persian cat, with an angel face like a doll, but with a shaven patch on its back and matted fur.  I was sitting in an approximation of the Kennel Club and the cat went over to give a tiny girl just arriving such a friendly greeting.  

I woke up thinking about Mai Tai, Mary's cat who was lost and then found.  She was an indoor cat, Persian, a sort of tawny colour. She went missing while being housesat while Chuck and Mary were on repat.  Luckily the housesitter who we knew, came and told us, and Col organised an extensive search, with posters and a reward. She was found before her people returned. And the gardeners who found her got a nice bonus too.

She was a very inexpressive cat. Whatever she thought and felt she kept to herself. I too housesat her on a previous occasion - and she never said a word. But the sitters said that the day she came back she talked and talked - telling the other cats what had happened? telling off the housesitters for losing her?  Who knows?  But clearly she was very relieved to be back home after what must have been a fearsome experience.  And she wanted to talk about it.

Col had a SUSSAR call out in the early hours of this morning.  The Misper (Missing Person to you and me) was found safe.  We both now feel very tired.

 

A

The Shining Mountain

The Shining Mountain is the beautiful Changabang in the Himalayas. And it is also the title of a book by Peter Boardman, who, together with Joe Tasker, made the first ascent of the West Wall of Changabang in 1976.  It is a good read, puts me right there up with them, but safely, on my couch, with a cup of tea at my side.

Tragically both Peter and Joe disappeared on the N.E.Ridge of Everest in 1982.  It was at that time unclimbed. And has hardly been climbed since, so no-one knows what happened.  They were both young and had so much to live for.  I do sometimes think about them, and hope that when the time comes God will wake them from the dreamless sleep of death and they will see this lovely earth again.  

If - IF - I am there, in the restored earthly paradise, would it be ill-mannered or unkind to ask them what happened? 

Interestingly, Peter says this in the book, in the last chapter:

"Many tales and legends, linked through all cultures, carry poignantly within them a sense of loss, of a glory that has gone; an Eden unrecovered and yet also convey the implicit promise of renewal, return, recovery, the Eden which will again be found."

Yes.  I don't think that we, the children of Adam, have ever forgotten the paradise that was lost.  Do you remember in Alice in Wonderland when Alice sees this beautiful garden through a keyhole - but she cannot get in? 

This is what Genesis is telling us: that Paradise was lost, but it will be restored.  And it is that restoration we are praying for when we say the Lord's prayer and ask for God's Kingdom to come, and for His will to be done on the earth.

I hope both Peter and Joe will know that one day when they wake up in the restored earthly paradise, in a worldwide Garden of Eden, with more happiness ahead of them, ahead of all of us who are there, than we can now imagine. 

We continue with our routine of Zoom calls and meetings, metal detecting trips and SUSSAR training sessions (the latter two for Captain Moth-Butterfly of course).  The weather has been cold and blowy, but it looks like sunshine today.

And I have embarked on another mountaineering adventure - with Peter Boardman, Joe Tasker and 2 others: Doug Scott, and George Bettembourg.  I find myself wondering about Doug and George - if they have survived.  It is such a risky sport.  

I am now reading Peter's Sacred Summits - and at this moment they are towing me and the sofa up Kangchenjunga, another dangerous mountain in the Himalayas. We were almost blown off the mountain a few night ago, in the jet stream winds.  The lads lost their tent and were lucky not to be blown away with it.  My sofa stood firm though. It's a big sturdy comfy one.  "Tell me about it" they groaned, having had to pull me and it up there, but at least we could all toboggan safely down on it.

I have my uses.

How the Wren Earns his Living; How Moon-beholders Rest

                                               Wild Rose

                                                   Pinks

We need to get cards and money off to the two graduates in the Oz Branch of the family, and also get into Worthing to visit a friend who is still in hospital.  I have sent a card and two letters but think now we must get over there.  And we seem to have a window in my many medical appointments - but, having said that, Col is not too well at the moment... and we had to cancel.  Not sure if it was food poisoning or a bug.  The G.P. wasn't sure either, and you cannot risk taking a stomach bug into a hospital ward.

We were watching the opening of the new Elizabeth line on the London underground today, and I thought rather sadly that my days of underground travel are over.  I think I am too shaky on my feet to cope with it now.  But it felt strange after all those years - living in London as a very young child - visiting Aunt Jo who always lived there - us as young marrieds commuting to work on the Tube - and then later in retirement we had our days out - via rail, tube and bus - to visit Exhibitions and Galleries with Jacks and Aunt Bea and sometimes Amy.  Its yet another thing coming to an end.  

Our lives are so short now, but Jehovah is offering all of us back what our first parents lost, everlasting life in the restored earthly paradise.   

Will we accept his offer?  It is entirely up to each one of us.

We were talking to Jacks today - by phone - during a sudden afternoon thunderstorm  

Captain Moth-Butterfly surprised me by suggesting a walk on Monday - and so we had a very short walk to the sea and back  - taking photos of the flowers of May as we went - well, such flowers as will thrive right by the sea. There was a very strong wind blowing and a lovely light. We are both limping a bit at the moment, but we made it.

And hopefully some of the flower photos he took will head this blog.

The natural world, Jehovah's creation, is such a source of inspiration and creativity.   Here are two lovely Haiku, the first by Kobayahsi Issa, the second by Matsuo Basho.  I wish I could be as inspired to something similar by our valiant and beautiful seaside flowers.

The wren
Earns his living
Noiselessly.

- Kobayahsi Issa

From time to time
The clouds give rest
To the moon-beholders.

- Matsuo Bashō

https://www.haiku-poetry.org/famous-haiku.html

I Used to Live Here Once

                                              Brassy Twist

I caught most of the 2018 series of Masterchef Australia.  Its great.  It seems to combine the best of Masterchef UK and Masterchef USA.  The contestants really help and support each other rather than being brutally competitive and the judges are kind and supportive too (as in the UK version), but the challenges are more varied and interesting (as they are in the US version).

I could have called this blog: The Sandwich Fairy Asleep on Her Watch as when I was woken by Col's very early Alarm on Thursday morning (4:30 a.m.) I had a feeling that there was no sandwich lunch in the fridge.  I hastily got up and sorted it.  Its odd how having our Waitrose delivery come on Wednesday evening instead of Wednesday morning has thrown me.  I am a creature of routine (and solitude), as befits my Aspergery nature.

Col bought me the latest bio of Jean Rhys: I Used to Live Here Once by Miranda Seymour.   It is absorbing.  The writer David Plante is often criticised for writing a bio of her under the heading "Difficult Women" (the three women in question being Jean Rhys, Sonia Orwell and Germaine Greer), but this bio seems to confirm the description of Jean at least.

I was glad to see the people of the Devon village where she spent her last years being treated with respect by her biographer.  It seems they were kind and helpful to Jean.   She clearly had a quality about her that attracted help, as there was always someone, or several someones - including three husbands -  to look after her.  

But the point that comes out clearly in this bio is that the one thing Jean never needed help with was her writing.  She knew exactly how to do that.

And what a writer she was.  Her words are alive on the page.  She, Shirley Jackson and Penelope Mortimer all have that quality, and its something that inspires me and that I try to emulate in my books (few though they are).   I don't come up to their standards, but it is good to have something to aim for.

The exquisite moth that heads this blog is a Brassy Twist, captured by Captain Moth-Butterfly on his phone on the Saturday expedition.

As Ecclesiastes 3:11 says of its Creator, Jehovah:  "He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has even put eternity in their heart; yet mankind will never find out the work that the true God has made from start to finish."

It is all so lovely. And so interesting. So how lovely and how interesting will it be during the time the whole earth is being restored to paradise, and then living in the restored earthly paradise?  

I hope we are all there to find out.

If you want to learn more, please follow this link, or, hopefully, if I have done it right, click on it: 

https://www.jw.org/en/bible-teachings/online-lessons/

If Faut Souffrir pour etre Belle

If enough of my schoolgirl French remains, then I have spelt out correctly that it is necessary to suffer to be beautiful, which is a thought prompted by yet another session of dental torture on Monday.  It left me exhausted and I slept on the sofa for most of the afternoon.

Of course the aggravating thing is that I am certainly souffriring, but without much hope of becoming beautiful, well not this side of Armageddon anyway.  I will still be an old crone, but a slightly less hideous one.  Hopefully.

By the way, I think the "e" of "etre "should have a little hat on it.  I forget what the hat is called, but I knew once.  A circumflex?

For the moment there is, barring emergencies, a pause in all my medical stuff, my next dental session being a week away. And there is one more to go after that - which will be to crown a broken tooth.

It is a sunny morning - the balcony geraniums are looking splendid, the nemesia is flourishing though its not scented today. The scent comes and goes.  We had some rain last night so at least The Green had a drink.  And poor Col has a problem with his car. I have just picked him up from the garage and will have to run him back up there after they call.  

What with my teeth and his car, it is going to be an expensive month.

I have been trying to decipher the notes I took during Saturday's Assembly.  Not easy.  But I do want to add something from the last talk:  Jehovah Knows who Belongs to Him.

The Speaker pointed out that there are 8 billion people on the earth, and he directed us to 2 Thessalonians 3:2 which reminds us that  "faith is not a possession of all people."  

Sadly most people on the earth are not exercising faith in their Creator. But we hope many many more will, and are trying to reach everyone.

We then turned to 2 Timothy 2:19, which says: "Despite that, the solid foundation of God remains standing, having this seal, “Jehovah knows those who belong to him,” and, “Let everyone calling on the name of Jehovah renounce unrighteousness.”

Jehovah knows who belongs to Him. And He values every one who turns to Him.  He reads every heart, all 8 billion of them, and sees the wonderful potential in each one.

So we, the children of Adam, need to value each other.

A Corfu Tiger

Col, in his Captain Butterfly persona, has brought back some lovely photos from his Corfu trip. This is a Cream Spot Tiger moth.   I am wondering if some Corfu butterflies and moths will appear on his 2023 calendar - if there is one of course.  We are not as young as we were, to put it mildly.  He actually came home early on Thursday from his detecting  field in darkest Hampshire (here there bee Designer Coffee Shoppes a'plenty - or so it says on the old mappe we found). 

He came back early!   He can usually outlast even the much younger ones.

My lovely young physio asked me how old I was. "Well", she said kindly, "You have still got a life to live."

She is wonderfully unlike the gym teachers of old. She is so kind and patient with me as I creak slowly through my gentle little exercises.

And on Friday we had to go to Brighton for my emergency appointment re my hearing aids.  The young - they are all so young these days, how did that happen? - audiologist serviced them and I can now hear again. Which is good as Saturday was our virtual Assembly at a virtual Haysbridge. But what on ordeal driving through Brighton was, and finding parking - all done by the wonderful Captain B of course.  And the streets were so crowded.  So noisy.

Saturday's Assembly was livestreamed, so we were hearing talks and experiences and interviews from brothers and sisters in our own circuit. There were lots of gems, lots of valuable teaching.

The theme was "Exercise Faith".  And perhaps the overall thing I have taken from it is how important it is that our faith in Jehovah and in his word should shape our lives - all we do and all we say.  And never forget to pray to Jehovah for help.  This is increasingly important as the pressures mount.

As Jesus said (at John 14:1, the theme Scripture for the assembly):

“Do not let your hearts be troubled. Exercise faith in God; exercise faith also in me."

We need to exercise faith in our Creator Jehovah, the Father to whom Jesus himself prayed, and in Jesus as the Messiah, the one sent forth by Jehovah.   And the word exercise means exerting effort.

Which reminds me, on a less spiritual level, I must go off and creak through my regular morning exercises.

Climbing K2 by Sofa

And I am not climbing K2 unsupported either - plenty of cups of tea, and even a hotwater bottle one chilly Spring evening. This is definitely the way to do it.  The expedition currently towing me and my sofa up there is an American one, as I am re-reading Rick Ridgeway's The Last Steps: the American ascent of K2.

It's a good read - absorbing.  But what a dangerous mountain it is.  From my armchair perspective, I guess the only mountain more dangerous is Annapurna.  And I am not saying that anybody should be going up there.  It is effectively to play Russian roulette with a precious life.

Yet I can also understand the fascination.  But I intend to go on understanding it from my sofa.

It has been a very medical week: I have had: a Hospital appointment (Rheumatology) a blood test, ages on phone trying to get results, apparently have Vit.D deficiency - otherwise results all good - I have had a telephone consultation and my next dreadful Dental appointment has been moved forward to this week. So it is hanging over me, but hopefully will be over soon.

Its not the last one though apparently.  Plus I now have a broken tooth... and my hearing aids have suddenly packed up... so the dentist will be even more fun than usual as I will not be able to hear what he is saying.  I have got an emergency audiology appointment but we will have to go to Brighton for it. And that usually incurs a parking nightmare.

Part of "the glorious freedom of the children of God" will be the freedom from all health worries that perfect health will bring.  And what I keep telling myself is that the older and sicker I get in this system of things the more I will appreciate being in the restored earthly paradise - IF that is I am there.

We, the damaged children of Adam, have never yet known what it really is to be alive, in perfection, in the paradise earth. But we can and we will if we pay attention to our Creator, Jehovah, now.

In harmony with that and if I make it back from the dentist in one piece, I must devote some of this afternoon to my witnessing letters, telling people about the Kingdom of God.  I am so grateful that, over 30 years ago now, two JWs came to my door to tell me.

As Col's alarm clock went off at 4:15 this morning, I suspect I will also be devoting some of the afternoon to dozing on the sofa.

The Flight of Captain Butterfly

A weary Captain Butterfly returned in the very early hours after his week in Corfu with the Conservationists.  His flight was delayed. Hopefully he is tired but happy. I haven't had a chance to talk to him yet, but he is definitely there, fast asleep in bed.

Unfortunately we will have to hurtle off for my hospital date with Rheumatology.  And I will then probably spend the rest of the day - after my Zoom chat with the sibs - trying to contact Dermatology as I was supposed to be seeing them this month too and have just realised that the have not sent me an appointment letter.

So that will be Monday taken care of I guess.  If I have a moment, I hope to put at least one lovely Corfuvian butterfly pic from Captain B's camera at the head of this blog.  And here it is - an Eastern Orange Tip.

I am very glad to see him back.  I don't sleep at all well while he is away.  And I had two crises:  one a swarm of the tiny ants that plagued us last summer.  I felt so guilty tackling them.

How I long for the Kingdom of God to be ruling over us so that ants will be doing what they should be doing, in the right time, in the right place, and we can help them - and all creatures - when and as needed, and never have to hurt them.

Then as I switched off the bathroom light the night after he left half the lights in the flat fused...   and, I am embarrassed to admit, even though I am 70 years and the rest, I am still scared of the dark.

Anyway, I did find the key to the fuse cupboard - after a morning call to the Captain - and sorted it.  My bathroom light was still out but I could cope with that.

I treated myself to the May broadcast yesterday - a loving message from the Governing Body of the Watchtower Society to every one of us.   The subject of our 3-day Convention this year is PURSUE PEACE, which could hardly be more timely given the tragedy continuing to unfold in the Ukraine.

There is a preview here, including a discussion about what true peace is, and how we can pursue it right now, even in such a violent world:

https://www.jw.org/en/library/videos/#en/mediaitems/StudioFeatured/pub-jwb-089_1_VIDEO

When I Fell From the Sky

I am re-reading Juliane Koepcke's "When I Fell from the Sky".  In December 1971, the plane on which she and her mother were travelling flew into a thunderstorm and went down in the Amazon jungle.  Juliane fell two miles from the sky still strapped to her plane seat.  She not only survived the crash, but, injured as she was, she managed to survive for 11 days, walking, swimming and crawling till she came across a loggers' hut.

She was the only survivor.  So had she not managed to make it back I doubt that the remains of that plane and its passengers would ever have been found.  It had been so swallowed up by the vast Amazon that days and days of intensive searching had found nothing. During her trek Juliane heard the search planes going over, and knew they could not see her. But she was able to tell the authorities her escape route and that led them back to the wreckage.

It is an extraordinary story.  She is an amazing person.  And I do recommend it. She starts with the moment of the crash, but then goes back to tell of her life (which explains how she survived in the Amazon) and then returns to the moment when, as the book quotes Werner Herzog, "the plane left her" and the terrible sound of the falling plane is replaced by the sound of the wind rushing past her ears as the jungle swirls up toward her.

I selectively read about the crash and the way she got herself out of the jungle, and then went back and read about her life.  

It is well worth a read. Though maybe not just before you are about to fly off on holiday.

I wanted to quote this from the book as a warning about "the world", the current system of things on the earth.  Juliane says: "It's not long before the story of my rescue fills the newspapers all over the world in the most unbelievable variety of versions.  The wildest is the myth that I built a raft for myself out of branches and leaves, and floated down the Rio Shebonya on it.... Once its out there, hundreds of journalists copy this account. Even today you can still read it in newspapers or on the internet. I've received letters about it, mainly from rational minded children like the first graders from Warner-Robins in the United States who were eager to know how I managed to build a raft without any tools. And why didn't my ranch of leaves and branches sink?"

Of course she never made such a raft!  How could she have, and why wouldn't it have sunk?  Also you can see, if you read her account, what a hindrance it would have been to her - even if she could have made it.

This harmonises with the the Biblical warning that the whole world, the current system of things on the earth, is ruled by Satan. And Jesus himself called Satan "the father of the lie".  Even when there is no apparent need to lie - her story is dramatic enough - it seems a lie is required - a bit more sensationalism in this case.   And how easily the lie is promulgated.

I did a rare bit of entertaining on Wednesday.  Jen came over for lunch - veggie soup, and marmalade muffins.   And then I got together with a sibling in the congregation- via old fashioned horse drawn email and phone - and we rehearsed our part in the Ministry School on Thursday.

It was an afternoon of phone calls really.  My Flower Estate friend rang to thank me for the cards I sent and we had a long chat, then Jen rang to tell me how her afternoon went, and to say how much she enjoyed the marmalade muffins (she took 2 with her).  They are from a reliable Cranks recipe I have been making for years and years, and they have never let me down yet.  

And I householdered in the Ministry School. I think our part went OK. 

This was our brief:

• Initial Call: (5 min.) Begin with the sample conversation. Then offer the Enjoy Life Forever! brochure, and introduce (but do not play) the video Why Study the Bible? (th study 6)

• https://wol.jw.org/en/wol/meetings/r1/lp-e/2022/18

• The Scripture we were using was James 1:13: "When under trial, let no one say: “I am being tried by God.” For with evil things God cannot be tried, nor does he himself try anyone."

• Jehovah wants to help us, not to punish or to hurt us.  He is inviting every one of us to come back to Him.

Oystie! The Oyster Pond Monster

 

https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-10768561/Couple-claim-video-Loch-Ness-shows-legendary-monster-swimming-beneath-waters.html

Given this dramatic headline - the Loch Ness Monster photographed yet again - I was saying to Captain B that maybe he could take a photo of a mysterious creature swimming across our own tiny loch - see his photo of it above - of the Pond, not the Monster, as yet.

The Oyster Pond Monster will become notorious for nibbling the toes of reckless paddlers, and ruthlessly denting pedalos. But I want to make sure we have the tea shop concession before Col manages to find it and capture it with his camera.

I think our sleepy little seaside town would do well with a modest version of the Loch Ness Monster to attract the coach parties in their droves.  The Loch Next Monster perhaps?  Oystie?

However, should our Pond contain no monster... which I suppose is a possibility... then that is another money-making scheme gone for a burton, and I am wittering on pointlessly about nothing (which is always a possibility).

In the meantime, I would do infinitely better to concentrate on what we learnt at Sunday's Zoom meeting.

Imitate Jesus by Serving Others

“There is more happiness in giving than there is in receiving.”​—ACTS 20:35.

https://wol.jw.org/en/wol/d/r1/lp-e/2022285

As a damaged child of disobedient Adam, I know I am set  on selfish. And I wish I wasn't.  But, one day, if I keep going...

Monday bank holiday dawned grey and overcast (the sort of weather I secretly enjoy).  It was not a day of great achievements, but I did get a card off to Darren, one to another friend in hospital, and a pressie off to Someone Else.  And on Monday I had the usual Zoom call with my siblings - minus the Oz Branch, as they were busy helping to move their student children out of a flat.