The Fairest Flower in the Meadow

And I'm there too - standing in front of it.  The Captain took me to the meadow at Fairmile Bottom yesterday evening to see the Marbled Whites. They were roosting and once I got my eye in, I could  see them everywhere among the flowers and grasses.  Some of the flowers were closing up for the night - and there were intermittent perfect little dandelion clocks.

Marbled White, Melanargia galathea on thistle

Shouldn't they alone tell us that we are not seeing a blind watchmaker at work - but seeing The Master Watchmaker.  Each clock is more exquisite than a Tiffany jewel, and more perfectly engineered than... not being an engineer, I can only come up with the Blackadderish wonderfully engineered thing.

Jehovah's creation speaks to us as clearly and directly as his Inspired word does.

We had a wonderful talk yesterday from a local brother.    The question being: Should we put our faith in science, or in our Creator?  

My ankles are now hurting from my Fairmile walk - along with my knees, but they always hurt - so I have decided to post my last two magazines, and I am also sending a card to the lady who now has a brain tumour, just to say how sorry I am and that I hope her medical treatment will go really well.  I have put nothing religious in it, given the notice that is now on her door, and can't call again. Though it feels like abandoning someone on The Titanic. She so much needs to know where the lifeboat is

And now I had better abandon my metaphor before I overload it and sink my blog.

Back to the Field (sort of)

Ringed Plover chick, Charadrius hiaticula

Forced myself out this morning, and arrived at Sue's to find Ron there to scoop up those of us (myself) who did not know about the last minute change of venue.  I followed him to the right house. We had a nice service meeting and then set off - me to do a few more of my magazine route calls.

Got a lovely warm welcome from two of them, and a long chat!   A couple were not at home.  But I had one very sad call.  Chris has had a bad health year too, and is now seriously ill. She does not want me to call any more. Though she was very pleasant and has taken the latest magazines.  I will have to pray that she will come to know that a fortress is the God of ancient times, and underneath are the everlasting arms.

We all need to know that so much, and to know why we can trust those words with all our heart.

The Ringed Plover parents have done a wonderful job and their chicks are now fluffy (and probably sulky) adolescents.  In the face of all the dangers: gulls, dogs, foxes, us - they have almost got them to the leaving home stage.

More Soup Dragonery

Linda joined us for supper Wednesday night - soup again - pumpkin (plus onion, garlic, herbs, chile, potato, and some red pepper I had left over), toast, and frozen yoghurt. And the Captain opened a bottle of white wine.  A very quiet day for me - some studying, vacuuming, and soup making - recovering from Tuesdays grand march and seagull attack.

Its high summer now, and I am grateful for the sea breeze.  The Channel is a calm turquoise blue this morning, the Green is still green (though we will need some rain soon to keep it that way), the balcony geraniums are ablaze, and Captain Butterfly has just been able to report an interesting new moth to the Recorder of Moths.

I am reading the Harry Thompson biography of Peter Cook.  A compelling read - an excellent bio - but sad. I don't suppose the end of anyone's life is ever cheerful, but his last years seem very sad.   But it is reminding me how funny and surreal he was.  And Private Eye endures to this day, which it would not have done without him.

Never Talk to a Seagull

I managed to totter off and do four of my magazine route calls this morning.  Only one was at home, but he did seem pleased to see me, and we had a nice doorstep chat.  He was puffing away on his ciggie as I handed him the Watchtower about the Bible and smoking...

On the walk up one drive I noticed a seagull on the roof. It was making a strange piercing repetitive call.  "Whats the matter chick?"  I asked it as I stopped to see if I could tell what was up.   I could see it noticing me before it got on with its calling.   I delivered my magazine and set off back down the path. Whereupon it dive bombed me.  It kept coming for my head, which was alarming.  I managed to get very close to some garden trees so it wouldn't be able to get at my hair and eyes and was able to get out of its range.

Maybe it had a baby on the ground and, on seeing me noticing its call, thought I was a predator and was on the look out for the little creature.  Flattering, but poor judgement on its part if so, as you only have to look at me to see that an arthritic tortoise could outpace me without much effort.

Or it might be that "What's the matter chick?" means something very rude in Seagull.

So I must never stop and chat to the gulls again.  Its too risky.  I am not a great talker to people - so it is an undeserved kindness in every way for Jehovah to have let me understand "the way of the truth", as I am so much not a people person.  I talk to gulls - well I did  (have learnt my lesson there) - cats, dogs, plants and even the furniture. But talking to people is problematical.  For me, anyway.  I very much admire people who can do it.  And yet I must do the preaching work. That is what Jesus taught his followers to do, and asked them to continue doing.

This is how the book of Matthew ends:   "Go, therefore, and make disciples of people of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the holy spirit,  teaching them to observe all the things I have commanded you. And look! I am with you all the days until the conclusion of the system of things.”

This present system of things on the earth has not come to its end yet, so we must keep going.

The Captain left for his Brighton conference quite early, and I did the shopping after I had done some more of my route calls.  There was one disabled space left at Waitrose, for which I do thank Jehovah.  If I park in an ordinary space and another car parks to near to the door, I can't get back in my car. The new knees are not as flexible as the original pair.

The Balcony Geraniums

We sat out on the balcony with a bottle of wine Sunday night. First time this year I think.  A calm quiet summer evening, surrounded by our balcony geraniums, their vivid clashing colours subdued by evening.  We talked about the way the longest day had already been and gone and how are are heading into Autumn - and of how the years don't last as they used to when we were children. The summer holidays went on for ever then - that beautiful respite from the horrors of school.

Whose idea was it to jam children together in large peer groups?

I drove myself to the meeting and back while Himself was out treasure hunting.  Got a lovely surprise on coming back from the Kingdom Hall, as he had come back early.

We lunched off avocado salad, and dined off chicken curry, rice and a sort of veggie curry made in the soup machine.   Today - gulp - we may be choosing a new dentist.  Aaaaarrrrgghh.

What will happen to teeth once we are perfect again - and lasting forever as we were originally made to do? Will they simply keep re-growing and re-placing themselves?

I hope we are all there to find out.   The Congregation is teaching us ever more strongly to have the complete trust in Jehovah that the faithful Hebrews of old had, and to brace ourselves for what is coming.  And there was some excellent advice in Sunday's Watchtower article for all those feeling that the economic situation means they must leave their children and go and work abroad to earn them a better life.  If people will listen, it could save them from making some tragic mistakes.

Jehovah has perfect advice for them, as He has for everyone.   He also gives practical help right now.

The Debut of the Blue Jacket

The blue summer top Bea bought me made its debut tonight at Dan and Libby's Anniversary Party.  It was a perfect summer evening and we sat out in the garden till after dark. There were loads of people, loads of food, and a great band.

Another landmark on Friday morning in that, after a lot of agonising, I drove myself to Waitrose and did a small shop. First time I have shopped on my own for I don't know how long.  We needed some more fruit and some more salad stuff. I also got some chicken to put in marinade for Sunday, and the next couple of days.   Hot chicken with rice, cold chicken with salad.

Paul dropped by for tea and to give us the Purple Emperor pins and then Jackie came over for lunch - broccoli soup - a new one and not bad, though I says it myself as shouldn't. Followed by bananas and Kelly's cornish ice-cream.

I have emailed the broccoli recipe to Bea, my Soup Dragon Sister, and it sounds like she is working on some recipes to send me.

I got a lovely email from Dave, one of my magazine route calls.

Soup Dragons

Did the tour of the local shops yesterday, holding on to the Captain's manly arm.  We had to search for a silver frame for a photo, trawled from the family archives, of the young us with one other person. In this case, "the young us" is not me and the Captain but me and my sisters. This is from a time before The Captain came into my life, and before our brother too.  We are talking ancient history here. Then we had to find a silver frame. Then wrapping paper, a card, and get a print of the old sepia photograph (Noah's Ark drying out in the background).

We did it, though my knees and ankles only just made it.

Then, as the Captain flew off on his mission to Arundel, the latest butterfly memberships flew in, so that took care of the rest of the my day.  Not many this month, for which I ought not to be grateful really.  But our membership is still going up. Not bad in a recession.

And Col is out posting the precious framed photo - all beautifully wrapped by himself - with a card.

Bea and I are now officially Soup Dragons, as we both have Soup Makers.