The Feathers of the Willow

The Feathers of the Willow

by  Richard Watson Dixon

The feathers of the willow
Are half of them grown yellow
Above the swelling stream; And ragged are the bushes,
And rusty now the rushes,
And wild the clouded gleam.

The thistle now is older,
His stalk begins to moulder,
His head is white as snow; The branches all are barer,
The linnet's song is rarer,
The robin pipeth now.

https://allpoetry.com/Song:-The-Feathers-Of-The-Willow

The above photo is of a Willow moth, taken, of course, by Captain Butterfly.

Suddenly it is late November, rainy on Monday, sunny on Tuesday morning, with a moody sky holding off, and a line of clouds low on the horizon. On mornings like that I like to imagine that we are living on the banks of a mighty river and I am looking across to a range of snow covered mountains on the far side.

What would the river be called - and the mountains? I wonder what the Latin word for "torrent" is - assuming that torrent isn't the Latin word for torrent - only that might work. And would "the High Downland Range" make sense?

Anyway, given that no such river and mountains exist, I should not be wasting my precious energy reserves wondering what they would be called.

But it seems well worth thinking about "the new earth". What will the earth be like after Armageddon? Will it have involved some powerful disturbances of the earth, new seas, new mountain ranges?

I ask because when Noah and his family - from whom we are all descended - set foot on dry land after the Deluge, wouldn't it have been a completely new earth, a changed earth? The familiar landmarks would have gone.  If we will only listen to our Creator, Jehovah, now, then we will be able to ask Noah and his family ourselves one day, as they will be resurrected, woken from the dreamless sleep of death, during the Thousand Years.

On Monday us siblings Zoomed together from our various locations in Oz and Yorkshire and the English Channel. All seems well with everyone. And long may that last in these "difficult times, hard to deal with". John posted a lovely video of a little wallaby in the reserve behind their house. In our travelling days, we always used to go for a twilight walk in that reserve, me being careful to walk behind my brother as he is tall - spiders, large huntsmen spiders, webs across path - shudder.

In the afternoon I made an apple crumble for Himself, and began my studying for the Thursday night meeting. The crumble turned out well, though I say it myself. But once again, it is a reliable recipe, provided - and here is a tip surely worthy of a place in Masterchef - provided that you don't use salt instead of sugar in the crumble.

Believe me. Or rather, believe Captain Butterfly who took a confident dessert spoon of the salt version, before the disaster came to light. Anyway, on the doubleplusgood side, it does give me an excuse to try out each new crumble before I serve it.  I give it a comprehensive test.

The banging upstairs restarted on Tuesday morning... it was heard again intermittently during Wednesday and Thursday, and as yet I do not know what will happen today. It is very early as I finish this blog - the Captain and Jim left ages ago for the Detecting Fields - and it is  a grey and rainy morning.

Turtle Doves

How precious your loyal love is, O God!  In the shadow of your wings, the sons of men take refuge. - Psalm 36:7

This was Thursday's Scriptural thought - and one so well worth meditating on.  And the metaphor of sheltering wings inspired the choice of the Turtle Dove above - taken by Captain Butterfly of course.  (I can use one of my photos if and when the subject of my blog is: lens caps, my thumb, or the strange tilting of the horizon.)

Jehovah not only has loyal love, he is "abundant" in it. He overflows with it.  Think of the generosity of the sunrises and the sunsets - every one a masterpiece and every one different. 

I slept very badly on Wednesday night, so set myself some targets for Thursday, namely to change the bedding and wash the sheets, otherwise I might have done nothing at all.  The struggle with the duvet cover alone exhausts me and I have to lie down afterwards.  And I also made the second fruitcake, this one for Captain B and his lunchboxes.  

The banging and crashing upstairs has started again. We thought we were in for a few months peace as our upstairs neighbours have left for their other home in the sub-continent - they do not like the English winter.  Nor do most people to be fair. I seem to be strange in my love of rain and snow and mist, and all the seasons.

I think their son must have come over to continue the work... Thursday and Friday were days of constant hammering...  Well, at least he is a good son, a loyal one - something precious in this current system of things.  

Saturday I made some veggie curries - I am trying to get back to cooking, but everything is so exhausting now.  On the doubleplusgood side, I got my containers and bag back at the Hall on Sunday, all emptied of cake, and with a thank you card, plus a p.s. that said The marmalade muffins were a particularly big hit!

Really pleased about that as they look so plain, but they are delicious. And they are made, from a Cranks recipe,  with Col's homemade marmalade too.  It is good to be able to give a small something back to the congregation elders, who take such good care of us.

The Kingdom of God is a government that knows and cares for every one of its subjects.  It cares for us and teaches us with loyal love. And it is inviting everyone to come in under the shelter of its loving wings before the moment comes when Jehovah will "bring to ruin those ruining the earth".

Precious Lives

At day-close in November
Thomas Hardy

The ten hours’ light is abating,
And a late bird wings across,       
Where the pines, like waltzers waiting,
Give their black heads a toss.

Beech leaves, that yellow the noontime,
Float past like specks in the eye;
I set every tree in my June time,
And now they obscure the sky.

And the children who ramble through here
Conceive that there never has been
A time when no tall trees grew here,
That none will in time be seen.

https://oxfordsong.org/song/at-day-close-in-november

The seasons do not seem so well differentiated now. This November has been stormy and rainy, but not misty.  It has been beautiful though - the various greys of sky and sea highlighting the Autumn colours. And wonderful sunrises of course.  I will see if I can find a Captain B photo of a recent one to head this blog.

I wish I could manage a poem... especially one that reflected both the sadness that belongs to the world, (Janet Frame), but also the certain hope that we are not abandoned to this.

It is hard not to keep thinking of the tragedy that befell four young lads - so young - who were just off for a weekend's camping trip in Wales.

Jevon Hirst, Harvey Owen, Wilf Henderson and Hugo Morris were four precious sons, who leave devastated families behind them.  They are a loss to all of us.  They set off, happily, up a steep and winding country road, in very bad weather, to their campsite, but skidded and came off the road at what is apparently just the one point where there were no trees to halt their fall, and ended up upside down in a water-filled ditch. The ditch was unusually full because of the heavy rain, the rain which I assume caused the skid in the first place.

There was a silence from then on. No activity on their phones, no activity in cyberspace, which these days is very alarming.  But of course the parents and friends assumed they had found a remote camping spot which did not link up to the internet. But when they did not return on Monday, they hit the panic button.

And the tragedy was discovered.  We heard first that  their car had been found - we assumed parked - but then we heard the air ambulance had gone up. And so we knew it was a crash. And a very very bad one considering the complete silence that had followed it.

It was as bad as it could be.

I only wish that their parents, and all the bereaved parents in a world system that is so full of tragedies and loss could know, will come to know, what Jesus said and did when he met up with a mother who had lost her son.

Soon afterward he (Jesus) traveled to a city called Naʹin, and his disciples and a large crowd were traveling with him.  As he got near the gate of the city, why look! there was a dead man being carried out, the only son of his mother. Besides, she was a widow. A considerable crowd from the city was also with her. When the Lord caught sight of her, he was moved with pity for her, and he said to her: “Stop weeping.” With that he approached and touched the bier, and the bearers stood still. Then he said: “Young man, I say to you, get up!" And the dead man sat up and started to speak, and Jesus gave him to his mother. - Luke 7:11-15

Jesus gave him back to his mother, here on the earth, alive.

And I hope you will notice what Jesus did NOT say to this bereaved mother.  He did not say: "God wanted another little angel in heaven, so he took your son."  He did not say: "But your son is now happy in heaven."

No. He gave that mother exactly what she wanted, her living son, back in her arms, right here on the earth.  And when he did this, he was showing us what he can and will do for us once he is ruling over the earth as the King of Jehovah's Kingdom.  He will resurrect the dead, and re-unite us with those we have lost.

It will be such a joyful awakening.

The beauty of the world, the sunrise and sunsets for example, always lovely, always different, can provide us with powerful reassurance of Jehovah's love and care for us - as will a close study of the Inspired Scriptures, in their accuracy, their harmony, and their beauty.

A Cake Anchor

In my book Disraeli Hall (plug plug) I invented a device called a Cake Anchor that the Victorians used to hold down the wonderfully light sponges they had at their elaborate afternoon teas - to stop them floating off to their ornate ceilings.  It was of no importance to the plot, just a self-indulgent detail that you can allow yourself in a novel, but not in a short story.

The point being that, as I struggled to get my large sackload of cakes to the Hall on Sunday, it occurred to me that I am not the sort of baker who would need a cake anchor in her kitchen - more a heavy duty cake crane.

IF I ever manage another novel, maybe I could invent a Cake Crane, for Victorian ladies who employed incompetent cooks in their stately homes?

Anyway it gives me an idea for a pic for this blog.  It can't be one of a cake anchor of course, as they have not actually been invented. So the pic above is yet another plug for my second book.

And talking of shameless self-promotion, I have another lovely review for Umbrellas of Hamelin, from a real author, who is also a fan of the short story.

She says:

The short story is a genre that has rather gone out of fashion which is a pity, as this collection demonstrates very well its strength as a medium of story telling. Sue Knight demonstrates skill across the range from the very short Talky Tin to the novella length Till They Dropped.

Talky Tin is the perfect short story, a piece of fiction that turns itself upside down at the end. The Martian Goes to a Party and Has a Nice Day is a wonderful example of 'making strange', as we look at our world through the eyes of a Martian visitor who is struggling with the social minefield of a party he can barely comprehend.

Klook and Plukey is a story that seems apparently gentle as two old schoolfriends meet again after a long time, but as with all good monologue-style narratives, the truth about the speaker gradually emerges, a truth that she seems barely able to recognise, but is all too clear to the reader.

Each of these stories is a gem. Highly recommended.

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Umbrellas-Hamelin-Sue-Knight/dp/1914060555

I haven't as yet had a bad review. For which I am very grateful.  But that is probably because I don't sell that many books.  IF I ever become a best-seller, then things might be different. And I reckon the best thing to do, what I ought to do,  would be to take any criticism on board, and learn from it.

We have all got plenty to learn, no matter what age we are. And the Book of Revelation tells us that it will take a thousand years for the earth to be restored to the paradise it was always meant to be, and for obedient humankind to be restored to the life and perfection that our first parents so tragically threw away.

But the Bible also tells us that with Jehovah, our Creator, a thousand years is as a day.  And as I am already past - ("well past" I seem to hear Captain Butterfly murmuring from the kitchen where he is flying the coffee machine) - my three score years and ten, I know just how quickly even a hundred years will fly by.  The Thousand Years will go by so quickly - and so happily too. And then our real lives will begin. Our lives were meant to start in perfection, not be the struggle they are now.

I hope I am there to find out how wonderful it will be.  I hope we all are.

A BUTTERFLY CAKE

Thursday morning was very rainy - and I began my cake cookery, making the first stage of the fruit cake. You boil up fruit, sugar and other things and then have to leave it to cool before adding the eggs and dry ingredients.  It is for the Elders School next week. Quite a few of us are providing cakes and biscuits for their tea breaks  - while others are making lunch for them. They work so hard caring for us all - plus they have to earn a living and care for their families - so I hope my cakes turn out really well.   That is, I hope they are tasty. They never look all that wonderful.

I made the second batch of marmalade muffins in the early hours of Saturday morning, as I couldn't sleep and I decided I might as well do something useful.  We tested one - half each - with our lunch.  A very early lunch as we had to get to the AGM.

I dare not let a cake go out untested since the Great Rhubarb Crumble Disaster of 2023 when I used salt instead of sugar in the crumble.  Mind you, it wasn't me who put a large unmarked bag of salt in the cupboard where I keep the sugar...

Today was the AGM of Sussex Butterfly Conservation, where we met up with some old friends, had tea and - cake again. A very small piece for me, as I should not be having cake at all.

And then Cake Saturation Point was reached when we won a Butterfly madeira cake in the raffle!  It is beautifully decorated with sugar butterflies.  So I will donate it tomorrow when I take my homemade offerings to the Kingdom Hall.  "Here is one I made earlier" I could say as I hand the exquisite creation over. But given that Jehovah is the God of truth and straightforwardness, I had better not.

The News is so awful that I watch and read little beyond the headlines.  Brother killing brother the world over, as the disaster set in train in Eden heads to its climax - and, thank God, to its end.

This is the darkest hour before the dawn. And it will be such a wonderful dawn when it comes.  Our elders will be learning how to care for us as the troubles intensify. And, I hope, they will be enjoying all the food we, their grateful congregation, have made for them.

Storm Debi

We were told there was another storm on the way - Storm Debi apparently.  And we woke up on Monday morning to find it had arrived - wonderful waves on the Channel.  I will see if I can find a stormy photo of our seafront to head this blog - one taken by Captain B of course.

Stormy weather, stormy news, as brother continues to kill brother.  Thank God for the truth - Christianity being called "the way of the truth" - and the assurance it gives of real peace coming to the earth.

I had the 5 minute Bible study last week. I was conducting it, my partner was the student.  There was a lot of material, so I had to be selective.  There are going to be some changes to the School next year, which will be interesting. And challenging, especially for me. My special skill is Not Talking to People...  but, with Jehovah's help, all things are possible.

If our Creator was requiring us to witness to the animals, the plants, the furniture, the washing on the line, I reckon I would be a star... I chat to them all the time. But, for me, trying to start friendly conversations with those strange creatures, my fellow human beings...

The Circuit Overseer made a telling point on his visit when he spoke about how Jesus approached the Samaritan woman at the well.  He pointed out he did not introduce himself this way:  "Good morning, I am Jesus, the Messiah, from the Nazareth Congregation" - Cf my approach at the doors. "Hello, I am Sue Knight from the local congregation of Jehovah's Witnesses".

Instead he asked her if he could have a glass of water. Which caught her attention, as Jews did not have any dealings with Samaritans, let alone Samaritan women.

If you read the account in John chapter 4 you will see that Jesus went on to give her such an effective witness that she went straightaway to tell her fellow countrymen about him.

There is a powerful lesson there. Although if I now start turning up on your doorsteps asking for a glass of water, you will know I have failed to get the point.

Sadly the chance of my turning up on doorsteps is receding by the day.  My blistered foot is so painful this morning there is no way I could put a shoe on it.  I did get myself to the Kingdom Hall yesterday, but that has left me unable to put shoes on today.

Thankfully I have no medical appointments this week. I have no medical appointments this week!!    Not to worry, I have plenty coming up before the year's end though. 

It was pouring down on Tuesday morning, big waves on the Channel.  I zoomed with a friend - did a bit of studying, some housework, and made a cauliflower curry. But that was about it.  I feel very anxious about us both at the moment - our age and our health. But I also have to remind myself that every day is a bonus now, and appreciate it, and try  to use it in the right way.

And in harmony with that thought I was invited to join in a Zoom Bible study this morning.  

Poppy Day

It's Remembrance Sunday today - Poppy Sunday we used to call it. It is a day dedicated to all those millions who died fighting in the two terrible World Wars of the last century.

And what did they die for? To bring about peace on earth? Yet aren't we as far from peace as we ever were, if not further? 

I do not wear a poppy myself, but would never try to stop others from choosing to,  And for sure I think about all those young men who were killed, on both sides. And I hope very much they will live again. I hope that Jehovah will wake them from the dreamless sleep of death when the time comes. They will next open their eyes in an earth truly at peace - an earth under the loving rule of the Kingdom of God. And then their real lives can begin.

It will be such a wonderful awakening when it comes, from the horror of war, into the paradise earth.

So I thought I would remember them in four poems - none written by me.

The first was written by a Canadian, Lieutenant-Colonel John McCrae, in May 1915:

In Flanders fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row,

    That mark our place; and in the sky

    The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

    Loved and were loved, and now we lie,

        In Flanders fields.

I have not put the last verse in as the conclusion he reaches is not the one I would. But I love the verses above - the poet captures the tragedy of it in a few words.  The horror of the trenches of the first World War - where, I believe this poem was written - is maybe not thought of much now. But it should be thought of today. It was a living nightmare.

So my second poem is one of Rudyard Kipling's about World War 1,  remembering those who were shot - by their own side - for "cowardice" in the face of the enemy. Nowadays we would call it Shellshock.

Kipling wrote:

I could not look on death
which, being known,
men led me to him,
blindfold and alone.

And the third poem is a very brave one by Thomas Hardy. This was written in the early days of WW1 when intense hatred was being fomented between the Germans and the English.

The Pity of It
by Thomas Hardy

April 1915

I walked in loamy Wessex lanes, afar
From rail-track and from highway, and I heard
In field and farmstead many an ancient word
Of local lineage like 'Thu bist,' 'Er war,'

'Ich woll', 'Er sholl', and by-talk similar,
Nigh as they speak who in this month's moon gird
At England's very loins, thereunto spurred
By gangs whose glory threats and slaughters are.

Then seemed a Heart crying: 'Whosoever they be
At root and bottom of this, who flung this flame
Between kin folk kin tongued even as are we,

'Sinister, ugly, lurid, be their fame;
May their familiars grow to shun their name,
And their brood perish everlastingly.'

Source: Thomas Hardy: The Complete Poems (Palgrave, 2001)

Thomas Hardy was not able to believe in a benevolent Creator, but for sure he saw the work of the one the Bible calls "the god of this system of things", Satan the devil. He is the one who sets brother against brother, and has done ever since Cain killed Abel.

Hardy saw clearly that WW1 was brother fighting and killing brother.  And, if we accept the truth of the Inspired Scriptures, that we are all brothers and sisters, the children of Adam, isn't that what all wars are?

So my last poem is an extract from Christopher Logue's "O Come all Ye Faithful"

O come all ye faithful

Here is our cause

All dreams are one dream

All wars civil wars.

Thinking of that "row of crosses" I remember when I first began my Bible study with the Jehovah's Witnesses, and they showed me that the cross is not a Christian symbol.  I saw that it was not, but wondered if it mattered. But then I started to think of all the things that crosses have symbolised down the years - national flags under which wars have been fought; graveyards filled up with the young dead of these wars... and I began to realise that maybe it mattered very much indeed.  It was all part of my waking up - in the spiritual sense.

And I hope that not only will all those slaughtered young men literally wake up - that God will re-create them from the dust of the ground and that they will live again - but also that the poets who wrote so powerfully about the wrongness and sadness of brother killing brother will wake up too.  I hope they will all next open their eyes in the restored earthly paradise, under the loving rule of the Prince of Peace, Jesus Christ.

And I hope we will be there to meet them.

To end briefly on a trivial matter - no disrespect intended - but this is my diary after all, I must note that Col having decided not go Detecting today changed his mind, after a good night's sleep and set off early. So the Sandwich Fairy was nearly caught napping!  Thankfully, I... er, that is she had thawed out some bread, and the cake drawer in the freezer was full. So he has not gone out into the wastes of wherever it is - to my horror I have found it is not on the calendar, so I will have no idea where he went to if he disappears - aaarrgghh - anyway, wherever it is, he has not gone there without his lunch.

The meeting at the Kingdom Hall was as always, in an increasingly troubled world, a godsend, and an oasis of peace.