The Olden Days

This is the photo we chose for our April Calendar - a comely Clouded Buff, which likely turned up in our moth hotel last year.  I hope its life went well, or indeed is still going well.  And that its children are many.  And I hope it gave us a good review on TripAdvisor.

Col has been out on the balcony sorting and tidying and I think a trip to our favourite Garden Centre will be on as soon as it opens for the season. I must give it a mention when we do go.  

The News is all of the Tariffs, which it seems may bring about a world recession - something that will weigh hard on many of us, but most of all on the poorest in the world.  The whole business of money is insane really.  

And while the money markets crash, terrible things are happening all over the world.  Isn't it time we all admitted that we cannot rule ourselves, let alone rule over each other, and turn to our loving Creator instead?

With that in mind I got the last of my invitations to the Memorial on Saturday posted on Monday as I had a rare outing, to a pharmacy at a local village for our next Covid jabs.   

We came back to some very bad news.  Shirley, a close friend of Bea's for sixty years has died.  Bea is devastated.  It is all so sad.  

If we are living in the Darwinian system of things that "the world" would like us to believe, why are these things so painful?  Wouldn't it seem natural to lose those we love as we get older?

But it isn't. And so we find it deeply painful.  Our hearts are telling us the truth, that this was never meant to happen, and it is a tragedy.  

So, inspired perhaps by thoughts of mortality, and the contrast between the lovely Spring day and the sadness and our great ages, I did manage to write a small poem:

The Olden days - by me

Blossom lined the roads.

By the daffodilled carpark,

youngsters played

while we had Covid jabs

declaring birth dates

from the olden days.

I hope that Shirley sleeps safe in "the everlasting arms", safe in Jehovah's memory, and that, when the time comes, he will wake her from the dreamless sleep of death and she will see this lovely earth again - maybe on a blossom-filled day in Spring.