TULIPS

A Tulip Garden

Guarded within the old red wall's embrace,
Marshalled like soldiers in gay company,
The tulips stand arrayed. Here infantry
Wheels out into the sunlight. What bold grace
Sets off their tunics, white with crimson lace!
Here are platoons of gold-frocked cavalry,
With scarlet sabres tossing in the eye
Of purple batteries, every gun in place.
Forward they come, with flaunting colours spread,
With torches burning, stepping out in time
To some quick, unheard march. Our ears are dead,
We cannot catch the tune. In pantomime
Parades that army. With our utmost powers
We hear the wind stream through a bed of flowers.

by Andrew Marvell

https://www.poetrysoup.com/famous/poems/tulip

Could I write a tulip poem myself? Not one that would compare to Andrew Marvell's obviously...   What is it I love about them?  Their beauty, their form, their colour, their abundance in Spring - their elegance.  Up they come, emerging from their bulb, each one a miracle of artistry and engineering.  The poet Dylan Thomas wrote of "the force that through the green fuse drives the flower".

I now have the privilege of knowing what that force is, it is the spirit of the Grand Creator, Jehovah.   But I can't manage a poem to compare to Marvell or Thomas. Wish I could. 

The flowers in the picture are the tulips Captain Butterfly bought me.

Monday was three Zoom sessions - 1 for him and 2 for me.  John and family joined us briefly from the North West coast of Oz, which looked lovely.  He assures me there are no salties (saltwater crocs) up there, and I hope he is right. Tuesday was the dentist... the good news is that he said my teeth and gums were were healthy and he does not need to see me for another six months.  

I got in a bit of a muddle over the flower lady on Wednesday. I went on my own - my usual companion had her first physio that morning, and my two standby sisters were not available.  My chauffeur (Captain B in his peaked cap and smart uniform) delivered me at ten and was to pick me up at 11:30.  Or so I thought.

However, at 10:30 there was a ring at the door, and there was the Captain himself to pick me up.  I was sure I had said 11:30, but he was sure I had said 10:30.  So who knows, given our ages?  I think he is getting a little deaf now, and I am getting more absent-minded by the day.

Anyway, he stopped and had a chat with the flower lady, so they now know each other.  He liked her, and hopefully she liked him.  (I don't know why anyone wouldn't.)

There was a magpie after our Hawkmoth this morning. It, the moth, is presently living on our balcony wall. I quickly opened the door and the magpie flew off. But I do feel guilty. It probably needed it to feed its babies... 

But for sure the moth does not want to be baby food either.

What a horrible situation we, all the earthly creation, are in since the loss of Eden.   In harmony with that thought, I just popped out before posting this, and the moth has gone.  Whether as food, or flown off I do not know. But I wasn't able to stand guard all morning. I had the Abel and Cole delivery to sort out, a bathroom to clean, studying, washing and some witnessing letters to do.

Captain B just rang from The Field and was quite upset to hear that above bit of news.  He said that next time this happens I must pick the moth up and put it in among the geraniums...  but have you see how big a Hawkmoth is!

THE BALCONY IN SPLENDOUR

 

Flowers by Wendy Cope

Some men never think of it.
You did. You’d come along
And say you’d nearly brought me flowers
But something had gone wrong.

The shop was closed. Or you had doubts —
The sort that minds like ours
Dream up incessantly. You thought
I might not want your flowers.

It made me smile and hug you then.
Now I can only smile.
But, look, the flowers you nearly brought
Have lasted all this while.

https://transactionswithbeauty.com/home/10poemsaboutflowers

The wonderful Wendy Cope.

And the flowers in the pictures above are the ones that Col did buy for us. He also bought me some yellow tulips for the house.  Love tulips, don't often get them. A picture of them should appear in one of my next blogs.

It has been sunny, but has gone quite cold again. And I am ashamed to admit that we have been turning the electric blanket on at night.  Must be something to do with our age I guess, we feel the cold more than we did.

Ironically, and rarely, Captain Butterfly was not detecting on Sunday - wait a minute - hold the presses! - HE WAS NOT DETECTING ON SUNDAY!!!!  So he could have helped me get dressed and got me to the Sunday morning meeting at the Kingdom Hall in person.  But there was no meeting, as we had a special live broadcast, which including a very good summary of the Watchtower, on Saturday morning.

What lies ahead this week?  The dentist...  my hearing aid service... and a blood test next week... oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.  But on the doubleplus good side, three Zooms with family and friends and hopefully I will see my Bible student on Wednesday.

Ramsons

Col spent Sunday in the Downland, detecting with the lads, and he came across and photographed this woodland full of wild garlic.  Love it.  It reminds me of walks in Froggatt in the years we lived in the North. And also that my granny lived in Ramsbottom - a name that has nothing to do with sheep (or their rear ends), but actually means "the valley of wild garlic", ramsons being the name for wild garlic.

Our C.O. returned on Sunday to give us the talks he was not able to give on his visiting week.  

The first was:  Will You Take Your Stand for Pure Worship?   We were looking at how difficult this has  been since the loss of Eden. And we looked at the Biblical account of the time when King Ahab, a King of the northern kingdom of Israel, married Jezebel, a worshipper of Baal, and how they then promoted Baal worship in Israel until:

E·liʹjah then said to the people: “I am the only prophet of Jehovah left, while the prophets of Baʹal are 450 men. - 1 Kings 18:22

The account in Kings shows how Jehovah showed, conclusively, that he was the true God.  And also that Elijah was not alone, there was still a faithful remnant.

The second talk was about how we must cherish spiritual things, such as the truth we have, the privilege of prayer, the congregation, and above all our relationship with our Creator, Jehovah.  It included a very touching experience, but we first looked at the Biblical examples of Jacob and Esau, and how the first, Jacob, treasured and valued spiritual things, and how the second, sadly, did not.  He did change later and regret his action though, but by then he had given away his birthright.

And the Speaker pointed out that the names Jehovah then gave to these two men reflected their appreciation, or lack of it, for their Grand Creator and his purpose.

So the question the Speaker asked us to consider, is "What name would Jehovah give me?"   Which certainly gives me a lot of pause for thought.  I did conduct a Bible study this week, and have got some not home letters done, to give to the pioneers.  Plus I have some more flats to write to.  But I seem to have spent so much time dozing on the sofa, that I worry if my name might be Couch Potato.

It is interesting that the name Jehovah gave to Jacob, namely Israel means Contender (Perseverer) With God, or, God Contends, because Jacob put up a hard fight for the faith.

And I will say this.  It is not easy to become a Jehovah's Witness - we all have a struggle. And it is not so easy to remain one.  Nothing would be easier than to just drift away, caught up in the currents of our own selfish inclinations and the strong currents of "the world".

So hopefully God will see us all as putting up a fight for the faith. And I can only say from my own experience, how rewarding it is to do so. We were made to draw close to our Creator and let him direct and mould us, so nothing makes us happier - even as things are now.

Gloater's Shoulder

If Captain Butterfly keeps on beating me in our morning Ordling competition (Wordle/Quordle/Octordle) there may well be a new condition hitting the tabloid headlines for us to worry about, namely Gloaters Shoulder (Gloaters Humero, to give it its Latin name).  It will be caused by too much triumphant punching of the air. 

Who is supposed to be the wordsmith in this marriage?!  See the picture of Waiting for Gordo above. 

You will note - by the way - that Gordo is NOT - according to its front cover - a New York Times Bestseller, unlike every other book ever published these days.  True, but what a lovely cover the publisher gave me.

If he - my young publisher - was rich and powerful enough to get it into the Airport bookshops, I think that the cover alone would make it sell like hotcakes.  And then I too would have been a New York Times Bestseller.

However, I am very grateful to be published.  Very grateful.

Col and I also compete at Countdown every afternoon - well, we record it and have it with our supper. But he is rather distracted by the lovely Rachel, so I do have a bit of a head start there.

'Our balcony is flourishing and I must get Col to photograph it for me.  I have one of those photographing phones myself, but it is no use me trying unless anyone wants yet another photograph of me looking especially gormless saying: "How do you do this?!"

Col had his usual Saturday and Sunday metal-detecting. And he took some photos of wild garlic that I have recruited for my next blog.  I attended the Zoom funeral/memorial on Saturday afternoon.  It was a lovely tribute to our sister and included a reminder of the hope of the resurrection, the time when she will be woken from the dreamless sleep of death and see this lovely earth again. And I zoomed to the Kingdom Hall on Sunday.

I am sleeping a bit more now, but not nearly enough, and feel very very tired.  But I am so grateful the pain has subsided enough that I can get at least some sleep.

Getting old is a painful business.  But it was never meant to be like this.  And am I really that old?  I haven't yet had eighty springs - though I am pretty close.  I cannot tell you how quickly it has gone.

MAY

We chose this moth for our May calendar picture.  The moths are returning now, so hopefully Col will get some more great photos.  This lovely creature is a cistus forester.

I have mentioned the strange poem MAY by Karen Volkman in my blog before, but it seems more appropriate as the years go by. It is the contrast between may's "gaud gown", its fresh and shining beauty, and what is happening in the world - and what is happening to me - "a colder thing" indeed. It is a poem in which the language is so alive.  It begins:

In May’s gaud gown and ruby reckoning 

the old saw wind repeats a colder thing...

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

We, a sister and myself, drove through a lovely spring morning on the last day of April - fresh green leaves and blossom lining the roads, a cloudless blue sky above. We were heading, appropriately really, to the flower lady to conduct her Bible study.  It did go well, and she was also able to show her pretty wedding album to a fresh set of eyes.

She had such a good husband. I only knew him in his latter years, as a very sick man, pretty silent on a chair. He was a call of Jean's in the days when we used to do magazine route calls.  He was a well-read and intelligent man and so he did appreciate the Watchtower and the Awake.  An immense amount of research goes into them.

Captain Butterfly is being well looked after by my congregation sisters at the moment - he got some delicious coffee cake last week baked by one sister - researched by Himself to the last crumb and pronounced delicious - and then a home-baked sourdough loaf from another sister, who came running after us as we left the Kingdom Hall to deliver it, still warm.

We had it with butter and honey (and some seeds too in my case) as soon as we got back  And, WOW!  Yummy. We both had to exercise a lot of self-control to take ourselves to bed without polishing the lot off.  It will reappear as hot buttered toast to have with our lunchtime veggie/lentil soup.

And I did actually manage to get some sleep on Thursday night - woke up in a lot of pain come the early morning, but did get some sleep. And what a difference that makes.

I found an email from an old school friend awaiting me, asking I had some time to talk, via email. I have emailed her back - at least I hope I have - my email is doing some odd things today. I hope I haven't picked up one of those bug thingummies.

Apparently my fb has also been hacked in that someone i have never heard of has just got a friend request from me.  Why do some people put so much energy into destructive things when  there are so many wonderful things to do?

I did get some sleep last night too, but it was full of anxiety dreams - one of them being missing the Zoom funeral I am to attend in Zoom this afternoon. 

Hopefully that dream will not come true.