Another "Last"

 Safe in their Alabaster Chambers (124)

By Emily Dickinson

Safe in their Alabaster Chambers -

Untouched by Morning - 

and untouched by noon -

Sleep the meek members of the Resurrection, 

Rafter of Satin and Roof of Stone - 

Grand go the Years, 

In the Crescent above them -

Worlds scoop their Arcs - 

and Firmaments - row -

Diadems - drop -

And Doges surrender -

Soundless as Dots, 

On a Disk of Snow.

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45719/safe-in-their-alabaster-chambers-124

As you see, I am having an Emily Dickinson phase at the moment. I came across her poetry in my first year at Uni - many many years ago. And have been a fan ever since.   I can't read this poem without thinking about my parents - and all the others, family and friends - who now sleep the dreamless sleep of death, knowing nothing of the years going by over their heads.

Bea and I talked on the phone on Thursday - and inevitably we mentioned some of those we had lost - so much family, so many friends. Then there is our health. Oh dear!  But we also cheered each other up and made each other laugh, which hopefully helps.  Bea had noted from my last email to her that I was rather down - which was very perceptive, as on the face of it it was an ordinary email.  

Other than that I made the now customary crumble and did the washing.  Plus some of the lights went out, so I had to find the key for the hall cupboard to get into the fusebox.  And I finished my study for the meeting tonight.  To which I went in pixel form as I was shaking with the pain by then - and very cold. I got into my big Broomhill Charity Shop woolly and  Col made me a hot water bottle.

And I did manage to sleep, which helped a lot.  On Friday we had a Zoom session with Julia, an old friend from our years on Planet Expat. She has been retired 10 years now - us even longer. We both agreed that we are loving retirement despite the health problems and are grateful to be here still.

But I think I may have had yet another"last" in that on Saturday Col and I were supposed to go to the annual Biological Recorders Conference, which is something we always enjoy. But I was in such pain that he had to go on his own.  So I guess last year's conference was my last - this side of Armageddon anyway.

And while he was away three of my congregation siblings called in with a bunch of tulips, and cheered me up. I had sent an email that alerted one of them that I was very depressed.  I didn't realise how gloomy I must have been sounding in my recent emails, but was very grateful for the company which was so positive and upbuilding and took my mind off the pain.

Anyway, I did manage to get a few hours sleep last night and, while I started today off creaking along on my zimmer, I can now manage without it.  I feel exhausted, like I have been through a long illness, but the awful pain has gone.  And we had a lovely meeting at the Kingdom Hall this morning - which hopefully comforted all of us - earthwide. I was there only in pixel form of course, but how grateful I am for the Zoom provision.

Sunrise

 

I'll Tell You How the Sun Rose

by Emily Dickinson

I'll tell you how the sun rose, —
A ribbon at a time.
The steeples swam in amethyst,
The news like squirrels ran.

The hill untied their bonnets,
The bobolinks begun.
Then I said softly to myself,
"That must have been the sun!"
……………………………..

But how he set, I know not.
There seemed a purple stile
Which little yellow boys and girls
Were climbing all the while

Till when they reached the other side,
A dominie in gray
Put gently up the evening bars, —
And led the flock away.

https://allpoetry.com/I'll-tell-you-how-the-sun-rose,---

Col sent me this pic he took of one of our recent sunrises.  We have had some lovely skies and some lovely seas.  I was going to say: we have had some lovely skies over lovely seas, but that reminded me of Pen remarking on some estate-agent speak, namely: "This house is built under a slate roof".  She said she wondered about the "under", as until that time she had hoped you could take it for granted that all houses were built under their roofs, rather than above them.

So hopefully we will always be able to take it for granted that the sky is over the sea, not under it.

We are watching an Aussie TV detective series at the moment.  We like to have something to watch together in the evening. But I can only take so much of it as the conventional version of detecting spreads everywhere.  In just about every episode now, a tiny girl detective - who is as obediently thin as Showbiz requires - beats up a large tough man. With no problem at all.  It happens every time...

And there is always a psychiatrist or a profiler... or sometimes both.

However, the actors are lovely, as is the setting, reminding me of our many holidays there in our expat years.  Well, apart from the shootings, and tiny little ladies constantly beating up big tough guys. I am happy to say that we didn't come across any of that.

Us Fantastic Books authors got together on Zoom for our monthly chat.  Some of us are selling quite well - others (me) are not. But I am so grateful to be published that I don't mind.  And it is always encouraging to chat with fellow writers.  It even inspired me to a small poem/verse about our Zoom meetings.

We Zoom/through space/with pixel face/each in our square/from here and there/a living fretwork/as we network.

It could continue with something like this: O Zoom, please ask your boss/why, when in your frame/I look nothing like Kate Moss.

Surely a bit of AI could fix that?

Captain B left very early this morning, with his sandwiches, metal detectors and lots of waterproofs to join the lads in some distant Field. And I hope to get the now routine crumble made, my studying for tonight done, maybe a cake for the freezer - I am down to the last two pieces - and hopefully to finish the witnessing I was given to last me the last 3 months. I will get some new territory next week, so I have a few days to finish.

I feel very old - my knees hurt, my insides hurt, my skin hurts.... but then I AM very old and every day is a bonus now.  And it is still wonderful to be alive, to look out over the English Channel - calm and grey this morning, in a cloudy sunrise.

The Amaryllis in Splendour

 

Amaryllis

By Connie Wanek

A flower needs to be this size

to conceal the winter window,

and this color, the red

of a Fiat with the top down,

to impress us, dull as we've grown.

Months ago the gigantic onion of a bulb

half above the soil

stuck out its green tongue

and slowly, day by day,

the flower itself entered our world,

closed, like hands that captured a moth,

then open, as eyes open,

and the amaryllis, seeing us,

was somehow undiscouraged.

It stands before us now

as we eat our soup;

you pour a little of your drinking water

into its saucer, and a few crumbs

of fragrant earth fall

onto the tabletop.

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/48910/amaryllis

Here is the Amaryllis that Helen and Mark gave us, in its splendour.  It must have happened overnight, as the last time I saw it it was a long green shoot.  Above it is one of the artist Brian Burchill's paintings, from his late period, when he was painting the Downland a lot.

The poet Dylan Thomas wrote about "the force that through the green shoot drives the flower".  And what is the force, that produces a tiny seed (or bulb or corm) coded with so much information that it becomes a green shoot, and then becomes the miracle of artistry and engineering we see above?

It is the spirit of the Sovereign Lord Jehovah, the Grand Creator.

As you see I found an amaryllis poem on line.  Wish I could have written one myself, but who knows, maybe it will inspire me.

I had an unusually busy Saturday - for me, these days.  Got the washing done, scrubbed out the bathroom, dusted and polished the bedroom, and cleared up all my vast supply of medicines and medical supplies, and restored order.  And got some witnessing letters done, plus my Watchtower study for Sunday - a very comforting article about the Book of Job. Its on JW.org, under "Meetings", should you want to read it. And of course I had supper ready for Captain B when he returned from a wet day in The Field.

However, although it was hardly a marathon, I felt really ill by the end of the day - and have developed an interesting new pain under my right shoulder which means I can't reach up for anything at the moment. I was only able to be just in time for the Zoom meeting on Sunday, even though Col was at home to help me, that is how creaky I was!  And then we watched Bargain Hunt with our lunch.  Both teams made money, and both got golden gavels, so a happy outcome.  And I spent the afternoon making a cauliflower cheese for supper. It was OK, but not as good as Nute's.

By Monday morning, my right knee was painful and swollen... and as for the News - the levels of corruption being revealed as more and more of the horrors from the Epstein files come to light - horrible. He was, it seems, an equal opportunity corrupter, both wings of the political system being involved - willingly so, as far as I can tell. 

I was busy in a Zoom session this morning when the phone rang.  It was Pen. "Hi Pen" I said surprised. "Have you forgotten we are having our Zoom meeting early today?" she asked.

I had.

So I hastily came out of Zoom Session One and joined my Sibling Zoom Session.  John had forgotten too and turned up at 11:00 as usual. So we did get 15 minutes with him.  It was quite handy in a way, as I had not managed to make anything for lunch - a bad Sunday and a bad night - pain - but that gave me time to get a sort of veg curry soup/stew up and running.  It is simmering now, as I finish this blog.  So, on that (un)astounding bit of News, I won't say: Hold the Presses! - but will finish this and post.

The February Calendar

 

This is the February picture from our 2026 orchid calendar. It is a Broad-leaved Helleborine.  It is another exquisite miracle of artistry and engineering, the work of the Grand Creator, Jehovah, the God of Abraham.   The photo is of course by Col, and he has chosen wild orchids - ones he has photographed here in the UK.

I didn't realise how many we had until he started photographing them.

My dentist fixed the little gizmo that fell off my tooth but warned me that if it does not last very long - the first one lasted four years - then he will have to do something more drastic next time, involving more drilling and all the rest of it.  When I said gloomily that it might be me that did not last the next four years he was quite upset.  Not sure if it was because I am such a lovely patient, or such a lucrative one...

We called round to see the Lady of the Flowers on Wednesday morning. She has been asking me to come round for a chat and that was about the first chance what with all the medical stuff. She seemed a lot more cheerful than when she rang me last week, so that is something.  She has rung me to say how much she enjoyed the visit and hopes I will come again.  Which I hope I will.

But how I wish that she would stop just for a moment and really listen to what her Creator is telling her, and how he can and will help her if she does.  

I zoomed with a friend on Thursday morning, and again this afternoon.  We encouraged each other in the important work we all have to do.

It is hard to know what to say about the News.  The whole Jeffrey Epstein thing ought at least to help to wake people up to just how corrupt and rotted the whole system of things is.  But the rescue promised in Eden is so close now, so there is no need to despair.

It is raining again this morning, after a day of rain yesterday.  So far February is living up to the name the Romans gave it.  Having said that the sun came out after lunch, but seems to have taken itself off again.

Mind you, I like gloomy weather - rains and storms and fogs and snow and all - but most people seem to want blazing sunshine every day, as we had in Saudi Arabia.  And while the desert certainly has its beauty, I missed the green, and the blue skies and the scudding clouds and the misty mornings.  

I suppose the nearest we had to misty mornings there was when there was a sandstorm blowing and you would see a great wall of sand heading for our little expat town.

Another February

 

FEBRUARY 1986, SHEFFIELD

              by me

Go back, you foolish little bulb

Winter has not gone

Do not be fooled by this warm February sun

Put those twigs back, reckless little bird

March is still to come

Its killing frosts will drop you

One by one.

As you can see I wrote this poem in February 1986, in Sheffield. So long ago. Whether it will be this kind of February this year remains to be seen. But for sure it has been much warmer than it should have been.

If we had a garden, I would have crocus (crocuses? croci?) - which out of all the dazzling spring flowers, are my favourite. So I will look out for a crocus pic in The Captain's photo gallery.

Well, we have made it through to another February - just - in that I am starting this blog on the 1st day of the month. Our calendar now gives us the Broad-leaved Helleborine orchid, which I must hang a blog on during the month.

Not a great start to the month as not only do I have a scan on Monday, but, to add icing to the dismal cake, I have just lost a crown from my tooth and will have to book a dental visit. I have to keep reminding myself that I am very fortunate still to be here, still enjoying life, still learning (thanks to the wonderful teaching from Jehovah's organisation), and above all to have the hope of living on this beautiful planet for ever, in perfect health.

But I am on borrowed time now, my threescore years and ten having long gone.

The scan was done yesterday. Very quickly, as we got there early - thanks to my Chauffeur Captain Butterfly who hustled me along. I won't get the results for a week or two. My dental visit is booked for this morning. Aaarrgghh...