The Sadness of March (not helped by a Flare-up, right knee)

Beeny Cliff  by  Thomas Hardy

O the opal and the sapphire of that wandering western sea,
And the woman riding high above with bright hair flapping free –
The woman whom I loved so, and who loyally loved me.

The pale mews plained below us, and the waves seemed far away
In a nether sky, engrossed in saying their ceaseless babbling say,
As we laughed light-heartedly aloft on that clear-sunned March day.

A little cloud then cloaked us, and there flew an irised rain,
And the Atlantic dyed its levels with a dull misfeatured stain,
And then the sun burst out again, and purples prinked the main.

- Still in all its chasmal beauty bulks old Beeny to the sky,
And shall she and I not go there once again now March is nigh,
And the sweet things said in that March say anew there by and by?

What if still in chasmal beauty looms that wild weird western shore,
The woman now is - elsewhere - whom the ambling pony bore,
And nor knows nor cares for Beeny, and will laugh there nevermore.

After Thomas Hardy's wife Emma died, the happiness of their courtship in Cornwall came back to him vividly, and he wrote a series of beautiful poems, under the heading "The Ashes of an Old Flame".

I have always loved those poems since I first came across them - and feel so sad that their marriage ended in unhappiness.  And of course this poem reminds me of the wild Cornwall of the 1950s, with its empty beaches, and also of my own parents - then happy young marrieds, now long gone, returned to the dust of the ground from which they were created.

If they are held safe in God's memory - in "the everlasting arms" - every hair of their heads numbered, I can hope that I will see them again. when the time comes for the rescurrection.

The photo is of a Beadlet anenome - from our local rockpool on our not very wild shore.  It was taken of course by Captain Moth-Butterfly, my resident photographer and computer expert.  It is the March photograph on our 2023 calendar.

One of the first things my sisters and I looked for at Praa Sands in the 1950s were the red anenomes in the numerous rockpools on the splendid and (back then) empty beach. Looking into the rockpools was like looking into Fairyland.  When you are a child you see that the world is full of miracles, full of wonders.  Then "the world" (the current system of things on the earth) will do all it can to make you forget.

Yet the Grand Creator is everywhere evident in His creation.

I talked to the siblings on Monday in our now usual Zoom session, and all seems well.  We also exchanged ideas about what to watch. John is recommending a Japanese series, currently on Netflix, called The Makanai - Cooking for the Maiko House

And I am appreciating Nute's recommendation of The Big Bang Theory, which alas is now coming to its end.  Not only have Sheldon and Amy got their Nobel prize, but the lift has been repaired. THE LIFT HAS BEEN REPAIRED!

Thus ends an era. So many great moments, but just to mention one: Sheldon explaining the meaning of the word "mansplaining" to Amy.  Brilliant.   I only wish I had thought of that.

The first day of March was neutral as far as Lions and Lambs went. It was a sunnyish but cold Spring day, and the sea was calm - so neither lion nor lamb.  There is some colder weather on the way apparently but I can deduce nothing about the way March will end from its beginning.

On Thursday my right knee was so painful it was hard even to hobble about. I had one panic moment thinking I might not be able to get myself out of bed, but all was OK. And I do have a zimmer right by the bed for these emergencies of old age (and arthritis).