Ripe Blueberries

Hi everyone, I hope you are all well.

I have harvested 6 blueberries from my blueberry bush, not many you may say, but these were the first six to ripen on a nicely loaded bush, and it is safe to say that this is the beginning of the battle between me and the birds to get my coveted blueberries, now I could cover the bush with net, but where's the fun in that at least this way the birds get a chance,  and maybe just maybe, they are already full up after devouring the cherries on next doors cherry tree, wishful thinking there I think.  We all know that blueberries are one of natures super-foods, so let's hope it is not a superhuman effort to harvest them!

My walk today took me through the park, past a duck-less pond, mind you the water level is getting low, and to the local leisure centre, where I enrolled in the Cardiff Active scheme which entitles me to free swimming in Cardiff Swimming Pools, fantastic, a 4k walk with a swim in the middle, who could ask for more.  I am planning on going twice a week and extending my other daily walks to around 4k a day, we'll see what happens.  Along with the extra daily exercise, I have tweaked my diet, no sugar, no dairy, low carbs and lots of fruit and veg and some protein,   I am not a health and fitness freak, just want to get back to and maintain a healthy level of fitness plus lose a couple of stone, watch this space!  And when I have lost the weight I am looking forward to creating some new clothes for my wardrobe, I want to be thrifty as well as smart, is this possible, well we will see.

My cushion pads arrived yesterday, and I chose the buttons to go on the first cushion, these are buttons I had left over from my cardigan and will suit the cushion perfectly.  As I said, tho other day, photo's when I have finished it.  I started a cardigan in a dark heather wool, the wool is supposed to be in two shades, but these are almost indistinct as to being just mono colour, so I am very disappointed, I feel this wool may go to Quilters sale on Saturday, and hopefully I will get something back towards a more suitable colour wool, one with contrast.  Meanwhile I will finish the cushion tonight or tomorrow and then start on the nativity set for GG.  

Today's offering is a poem by Robert Frost, lovely poem that really paints a picture visually and of country life, reminds me of my early life in a Hampshire village.  A little long but worth reading.

Thank you once again for joining me, I look forward to sharing with you again.  I hope you have a wonderful day, wherever in the world you are.  Love Bubbles

Blueberries (Robert Frost 1874-1963)

"You ought to have seen what I saw on my way 

To the village, through Mortenson's pasture to-day: 

Blueberries as big as the end of your thumb, 

Real sky-blue, and heavy, and ready to drum 

In the cavernous pail of the first one to come! 

And all ripe together, not some of them green 

And some of them ripe! You ought to have seen!" 

"I don't know what part of the pasture you mean." 

"You know where they cut off the woods--let me see-- 

It was two years ago--or no!--can it be 

No longer than that?--and the following fall 

The fire ran and burned it all up but the wall." 

"Why, there hasn't been time for the bushes to grow. 

That's always the way with the blueberries, though: 

There may not have been the ghost of a sign 

Of them anywhere under the shade of the pine, 

But get the pine out of the way, you may burn 

The pasture all over until not a fern 

Or grass-blade is left, not to mention a stick, 

And presto, they're up all around you as thick 

And hard to explain as a conjuror's trick." 

"It must be on charcoal they fatten their fruit. 

I taste in them sometimes the flavour of soot. 

And after all really they're ebony skinned: 

The blue's but a mist from the breath of the wind, 

A tarnish that goes at a touch of the hand, 

And less than the tan with which pickers are tanned." 

"Does Mortenson know what he has, do you think?" 

"He may and not care and so leave the chewink 

To gather them for him--you know what he is. 

He won't make the fact that they're rightfully his 

An excuse for keeping us other folk out." 

"I wonder you didn't see Loren about." 

"The best of it was that I did. Do you know, 

I was just getting through what the field had to show 

And over the wall and into the road, 

When who should come by, with a democrat-load 

Of all the young chattering Lorens alive, 

But Loren, the fatherly, out for a drive." 

"He saw you, then? What did he do? Did he frown?" 

"He just kept nodding his head up and down. 

You know how politely he always goes by. 

But he thought a big thought--I could tell by his eye-- 

Which being expressed, might be this in effect: 

'I have left those there berries, I shrewdly suspect, 

To ripen too long. I am greatly to blame.'" 

"He's a thriftier person than some I could name." 

"He seems to be thrifty; and hasn't he need, 

With the mouths of all those young Lorens to feed? 

He has brought them all up on wild berries, they say, 

Like birds. They store a great many away. 

They eat them the year round, and those they don't eat 

They sell in the store and buy shoes for their feet." 

"Who cares what they say? It's a nice way to live, 

Just taking what Nature is willing to give, 

Not forcing her hand with harrow and plow." 

"I wish you had seen his perpetual bow-- 

And the air of the youngsters! Not one of them turned, 

And they looked so solemn-absurdly concerned." 

"I wish I knew half what the flock of them know 

Of where all the berries and other things grow, 

Cranberries in bogs and raspberries on top 

Of the boulder-strewn mountain, and when they will crop. 

I met them one day and each had a flower 

Stuck into his berries as fresh as a shower; 

Some strange kind--they told me it hadn't a name." 

"I've told you how once not long after we came, 

I almost provoked poor Loren to mirth 

By going to him of all people on earth 

To ask if he knew any fruit to be had 

For the picking. The rascal, he said he'd be glad 

To tell if he knew. But the year had been bad. 

There had been some berries--but those were all gone. 

He didn't say where they had been. He went on: 

'I'm sure--I'm sure'--as polite as could be. 

He spoke to his wife in the door, 'Let me see, 

Mame, we don't know any good berrying place?' 

It was all he could do to keep a straight face. 

"If he thinks all the fruit that grows wild is for him, 

He'll find he's mistaken. See here, for a whim, 

We'll pick in the Mortensons' pasture this year. 

We'll go in the morning, that is, if it's clear, 

And the sun shines out warm: the vines must be wet. 

It's so long since I picked I almost forget 

How we used to pick berries: we took one look round, 

Then sank out of sight like trolls underground, 

And saw nothing more of each other, or heard, 

Unless when you said I was keeping a bird 

Away from its nest, and I said it was you. 

'Well, one of us is.' For complaining it flew 

Around and around us. And then for a while 

We picked, till I feared you had wandered a mile, 

And I thought I had lost you. I lifted a shout 

Too loud for the distance you were, it turned out, 

For when you made answer, your voice was as low 

As talking--you stood up beside me, you know." 

"We sha'n't have the place to ourselves to enjoy-- 

Not likely, when all the young Lorens deploy. 

They'll be there to-morrow, or even to-night. 

They won't be too friendly--they may be polite-- 

To people they look on as having no right 

To pick where they're picking. But we won't complain. 

You ought to have seen how it looked in the rain, 

The fruit mixed with water in layers of leaves, 

Like two kinds of jewels, a vision for thieves." 

Welcome to July

Hi everyone, and welcome to July, I hope I find you all well.

Another glorious day, washing on line blowing in the breeze, sky a beautiful blue, with little patches of fluffy white clouds.  I took my usual walk this morning, accompanied by the music of Harry Nillson, certainly helped to make the pace a little more brisk, and I am a little unsure about the looks I got as I walked past people humming away, where they genuine smiles or, looks of pity, I like to think genuine smiles.  My favourite song of his, would have to be "Without You", a close second "The Moonbeam Song" and for sheer comic cleverness "The lime in the coconut"  and yes I was singing/humming along to all of them!  Without you became our song back in 1971 when it was released and was the first LP that DB bought me,  and naturally had to be replaced by a CD at a later date. But for pure poetry, for me it has to be "The Moonbeam Song" and that is my offering today. (Two ducks in the pond today, both female Mallards, and both busy eating bread).

This afternoon I will have to venture into Llandaff Village, Post Office and Chemist call, this time in my new sandals, so wish me luck that I don't have a recurrence of broken sandal!  I may have to refrain from listening to music as I go, as there will be far more people to pass and really do not want to frighten the natives away.  I shall pop into Llandaff Cathedral and have yet another look at Dante Gabriel Rosetti's "Seed of David" painted between 1858 and 1864 if you ever get the chance, do have a look as it it really beautiful.

My cushion cover is coming along well, almost finished, blue in cable stitch, with two sizes of cable, pictures later when I finish it, just waiting for the cushion pads to arrive from ebay. 

Thank yo once again for listening to my ramblings,  have a lovely day wherever in the world you are, and speak to you again soon.  

love Bubbles.

"The Moonbeam Song"

Have you ever watched a moonbeam
As it slid across your windowpane
Or struggled with a bit of rain
Or danced about the weathervane
Or sat along a moving train
And wondered where the train has been

Or on a fence with bits of crap
Around its bottom
Blown there by a windbeam
Who searches for the moonbeam
Who was last seen
Looking at the tracks
Of the careless windbeam
Or moving to the tracks
Of the tireless freight train
And lighting up the sides
Of the weathervane
And the bits of rain
And the windowpane
And the eyes of those
Who think they saw what happened

Have you ever watched a moonbeam
As it slid across your windowpane
Or struggled with a bit of rain
Or danced about the weather vane
Or sat along a moving train
And wonder where the train has been?

Looking at the tracks
Of the careless windbeam
Or moving to the tracks
Of the tireless freight train
And lighting up the sides
Of the weathervane
And the bits of rain
And the windowpane
And the eyes of those
Who think they saw what happened

The gentle sigh of rustling leaves.

Hi everyone, I hope I find you well and having had a lovely weekend.

We had a lovely, cooler, but productive weekend, shopping done, sandals taken back to Go Outdoors and exchanged with no problems, a walk on the barrage, some gardening and a couple of leisurely evenings relaxing, who could ask for more.

Today is cooler than last week, refreshingly so, but the weather promises to be warmer again tomorrow, what a great climate we live in.  As I write the wind is gently rustling through the leaves of the shrubs and trees,  gentle content sighs they take in the sun having been replenished by the recent rain.  It is at times like this I wish I could paint, looking out at the sky with pillows of grey and white, broken by intermittent lines of red roof tiles, and the different shades of green and copper and reds from the trees with all their different types of foliage, I suppose I will have to make do with painting by words, beside words do paint a wonderful picture.

My walk took me 3.5k today,  as usual through the park, via the postbox posting a comic and some stickers to my GG, but instead of ending it by walking back along the edge of the park, decided to retrace my steps and walk back through the park, past the pond, no lone duck today, just a moorhen picking his way through the reeds, and the bull-rushes are becoming resplendent along the edge of the pond, again more gentle breeze rustling through the reeds and rushes.  As I leave the pond, I look over Cardiff and where the sun is busy breaking though the pillowy clouds it is reflecting off the different architecture, a sparkling city beneath me.  Yes I can safely say I feel at one with the world and what it has to offer today.  A I type, I am joined by a tiny spider busily weaving his web between my laptop screen and the table, he just appeared throwing out his web in front of him, making waypoints and then shooting off in another direction.  I dare not move the screen for fear of breaking his wonderful web.  

Thank you for joining me once again, have a lovely day wherever in the world you are, I look forward to your joining me again, for now goodbye,  Love Bubbles.

Rustling Leaves (Sarah Pesta)

During the day I feel the soft wind

Blowing through the trees in its path

When the wind begins to blow through the trees

The leaves on the branches begin to rustle

The day is starting to fade to pastel colors

Colors in which are blending in with the sun

Night has arrived after the sunset has left

I can still hear the leaves rustle in my dreams 

That holiday feeling

Hi everyone, I hope I find you all well this morning.

I woke early and was greeted by (apart from a ravenous cat wanting to come in) a rather greyer than normal sky, still with patches of blue spread evenly across it, a cool breeze gently lifting the curtains, the call of the seagulls as they circled overhead and a feeling of tranquility passing over me, I felt, as I often do, as if I am on holiday.  It is a feeling that is difficult to describe, but it takes me back to holidays in Padstow, caravaning at Mother Ivey's Bay, standing at the stile between the campsite and the sand dunes, my hair being lifted by the fresh breeze,  the sun on my face and the sound of seagulls above and the waves breaking on the beach, and all this evoked by a gentle breeze rippling through my life as I look out of the window.  Packed lunches made and family off to work, I could not wait to get out for my walk, donning my old sandals (my good ones failed on my walk back from the River Taff and Llandaff yesterday) I set out for the park, still no-one around save the man on his gang mower mowing the grass.  I reach the pond and there again is the lone duck, perched on the pier, this time she has an entourage of four magpies, not molesting or being aggressive, just sitting on the pier beside her, of course they all flew away before I could even reach for my camera, apart from the duck, who looked at me and resignedly turned and hopped into the pond. I walk on and leave her to her peace, all the while the seagulls circle overhead and call to each other.  Yes I definitely have that holiday feeling.  I get home to a message from my friend, who despite sitting for over two hours on the runway yesterday waiting to take off (thank you Fat Controllers (French Air Traffic)) to say she is "In Heaven" having finally and safely arrived in Malta to see her son, have a lovely time, I know you will.  Whilst she is in heaven in Malta, I am in heaven right here, yes listening to the breeze play in the trees, the soft rustling of the leaves, and the tendrils of leaves on the willow trees in the park as they reach out as if grasping for something just out of their reach and yes the seagulls swooping, circling and calling out overhead.

Thank you once again for joining me, I look forward to speaking to you again very soon, have a lovely day wherever in the world you are.  Love Bubbles

The Seagull

When I was a child, before I knew the word 

for a snowstorm, before I remember 

a tree or a field, 

I saw an endless grey slate afternoon coming, 

I knew a bird singing in the sun 

was the same as a dog barking in the dark.

A pigeon in a blizzard fluttered 

against a kitchen window,

– my first clear memory of terror, 

I kept secret, my intimations 

I kept secret.

This winter I hung a grey and white stuffed 

felt seagull from the cord of my window shade, 

a reminder of good times by the sea, 

of Chekhov and impossible love.

I took comfort from the gull, the graceful shape 

sometimes lifted a wing in the drafty room.

Once when I looked at the gull I saw 

through the window a living seagull glide 

toward me then disappear, – what a rush of life!

I remember its hereness, 

while inside the room 

the senseless symbol 

little more than a bedroom slipper 

dangled on a string.

Beyond argument, my oldest emotion 

hangs like a gull in the distant sky.

Eyes behind bars of mud and salt 

see some dark thing below,

– my roof under the sea.

Only the sky is taken for granted.

In the quiet morning light, 

terror’s the only bird I know, 

– although birds have fed from my hand.

STANLEY MOSS (1982)

Wednesday morning at 5.00 as the day begins...

Hi Everybody, I hope I find you all well today.

Yes as the title conveys' I was awake and ready to roll at 5.00am, alarm was set to 6.30am so naturally I wake up well before time! However all was not in vain, for now we have clouds, and a lovely cooling breeze; Don't get me wrong I have loved every minute of the sunny warm weather, as have my plants, as long as I give them a very long refreshing drink each evening, but the breeze is so cool and refreshing, it's very welcome.  Our moderate British weather is something I love about our isle, and feel honoured to be able to appreciate it in all it's varied forms, again appreciated that seem may not feel the same way given the extremes they have experienced. It has been really interesting watching people adapt to the different temperatures, barbecues, swimming pools, some lobster coloured people, dining al fresco, but when the temperature dials down a notch, same folks skipping and enjoying the change, I just love it.  Talking of swimming pool's my DD bought out the sand and water tray for GG to play in, of course not content with playing in the water tray, she had to climb into it!  Result, buy her an inflatable paddling pool, and my how they have changed since my two were small, this one is in two halves with a small inflatable slide bridging the pair, naturally she loves it.  

My plants in the greenhouse are coming on apace, I have one tomato that is nearly ripe enough to pick, and the later plants have their first flowers, it has been a delight when making lunch to go and pick salad leaves and herbs, from fork to plate fantastic. This is my first year of veggie gardening, normally by better half does it, but as he is otherwise occupied I get the honour and I have really enjoyed it, my arm muscles as stronger for all the watering can carrying!  Next year I plan to have a couple of raised beds at the bottom of the garden and grow beans and courgettes etc, but for this year the greenhouse and tubs will have to do, plus my flowers of course.

My early morning walk today is going to be rather later as I have to pop to Llandaff village later on, so will take a walk besides the river and Llandaff cathedral for a change.  Now here is an anomally, Llandaff is officially called a city because it has a cathedral, although it is only a small part of Cardiff, so why do we as locals, not say we are going to the city, but we are going to the village?  Llandaff was home to Roald Dahl,  who was born in Fairwater Road, a mere 300 yards or so from my home, so it seems appropriate to end with a poem by him, along with a picture of the Norwegian Church in Cardiff bay, regularly used by Roald Dahl and his family.

Thank you as always for joining me, and I hope you have a wonderful day wherever in the world you are. Speak to you again soon.

Love Bubbles. 

Augustus Gloop! Augustus Gloop   (Roald Dahl)

'Augustus Gloop! Augustus Gloop!

The great big greedy nincompoop!

How long could we allow this beast

To gorge and guzzle, feed and feast

On everything he wanted to?

Great Scott! It simply wouldn't do!

However long this pig might live,

We're positive he'd never give

Even the smallest bit of fun

Or happiness to anyone.

So what we do in cases such

As this, we use the gentle touch,

And carefully we take the brat

And turn him into something that

Will give great pleasure to us all–

A doll, for instance, or a ball,

Or marbles or a rocking horse.

But this revolting boy, of course,

Was so unutterably vile,

So greedy, foul, and infantile

He left a most disgusting taste

Inside our mouths, and so in haste

We chose a thing that, come what may,

Would take the nasty taste away.

'Come on!' we cried, 'The time is ripe

To send him shooting up the pipe!

He has to go! It has to be!'

And very soon, he's going to see

Inside the room to which he's gone

Some funny things are going on.

But don't, dear children, be alarmed;

Augustus Gloop will not be harmed,

Although, of course, we must admit

He will be altered quite a bit.

He'll be quite changed from what he's been,

When he goes through the fudge machine:

Slowly, the wheels go round and round,

The cogs begin to grind and pound;

A hundred knives go slice, slice, slice;

We add some sugar, cream, and spice;

We boil him for a minute more,

Until we're absolutely sure

That all the greed and all the gall

Is boiled away for once and all.

Then out he comes! And now! By grace!

A miracle has taken place!

This boy, who only just before

Was loathed by men from shore to shore,

This greedy brute, this louse's ear,

Is loved by people everywhere!

For who could hate or bear a grudge

Against a luscious bit of fudge?' 

A walk in the park

Hi everyone, I hope I find you well.

Another lovely day in Cardiff, the sun is shining, the sky is blue, what more can you ask for.   As I set out for my daily walk I watched the jets zipping gracefully across the sky, carrying their passengers to unknown destinations to indulge in work or play, I imagine the exotic locations they are being carried off to and dream of beaches and palm trees in far off lands.  I reach the pond and am greeted by a lone female mallard eventually venturing from the reeds, and there in the reeds a moorhen's bright red head bobs and ducks searching for food.  The pond is getting low since it is a couple of weeks since we had rain, all the reeds and irises standing to attention, reaching for the sun, whilst keeping their roots firmly anchored in the water.  A collie bounds past me, straight into the water, ball left to float where it will as the happy collie swims to it's hearts content, unlike it's owner who had hoped the dog wouldn't find the pond, collie, not finding water, that is an extremely unlikely scenario!  I continue my walk along with many others, either with their dog's, friends, babies in backpacks, or just their mobiles keeping them in touch with their world, I have my imagination and observation to accompany me.  I pause briefly to gaze down at Cardiff below me, stretching from the docks to the left across the barrage to the church standing proud on the Penarth headland, seeing the Millennium Stadium, the Millennium Centre with it's bronze roof reflecting the full glory of the sun, the huge blue tent of the Dr Who exhibition, Cardiff City stadium, and all this nestled between the Bristol Channel below me and behind me the hills that cradle Cardiff, fantastic, what a wonderful place to live. 

Now some of you may recall my earlier blog about Plymouth and the Hoe, well as I sat here I realised that my ideal would be a blend of both cities, that and then my family would all be in one place, absolute perfection. 

Life is wonderful, it really is a walk in the park.  Thank you for joining me again today, have a wonderful day wherever in the world you are.

Love from Bubbles

A Walk in the Park (Ernestine Northover)

A walk in the park is a pleasure to do, 
When a visit to one is long overdue, 
To take the dogs too, is really great, 
For the exercise is just first rate.

The peacefulness can be very strange, 
For quietness is such a change 
From all the traffic rushing by, 
The decibels get really high.

We have to live with constant noise, 
That often takes away the joys 
And contentment, that a walk can give us. 
We've got to count is as a real plus.

There's a lake where you can hire a boat, 
And two or more can go afloat, 
And meander, with the water calm, 
With oars a dipping, what sheer balm.

At the end of the lake, the ducks you'll meet, 
And geese and swans, with their webbed feet, 
All gather hoping to be fed, 
With slivers of cake and slices of bread.

There are tennis courts and a golf course too, 
You can do most anything you want to do, 
For children, roundabouts and swings, 
Seesaws, slides, gosh, there's lots of things.

A small cafe where you can sit, 
And enjoy a coffee and rest for a bit, 
And watch the birds that gather round, 
Robins and bluetits, ready to scrounge.

For any titbits that you might drop, 
They're very brave, and will sit atop, 
The railings right next to your chair, 
As long as with them, your fare you share.

The flowers are a joy to view, 
The colours bright with the morning dew, 
Red, yellow, purple, pink and peach, 
Lifting their heads the sun to reach.

A walk in the park takes away the strain, 
Of working, which we have to go back to again, 
But as long as we take just a little time out
To relax, that to me is what life's all about.

Returned from the country of the free (carrier bags)

Hello everyone, I hope I find you all well and that you had a lovely weekend. 

We drove back, somewhat reluctantly from Plymouth to Cardiff after a lovely week with the GG, walks, Jo Jingles, trips to the playpark, walking the dog and the inevitable ride on Gus Honeybun's train in West Hoe Park. for those of you that know Plymouth will know that this train has been there forever and a day, well it seems like that, is it only 30 years since we took our two as toddlers on the self same train?  The train is affectionately known as Gus Honeybun's because of the local BBC News (now BBC Spotlight) having this puppet to help celebrate birthdays of those lucky children whose parents had written in to request a mention, sadly I was not one of parents, obviously neglectful, a replica puppet sits in the chimney stack of each train.  DB insisted it was a must do and consequently he and GG spent a happy 5 minutes traversing the little track.  Nestled in an old  quarry reclaimed in the early 1900's West Hoe Park sits on the Hoe foreshore beneath what was the Mayflower and Grand hotels, both since been re-branded, and  to the west of Smeatons Tower and Plymouth Sound in front.     Bliss, we lived in Plymouth and the locale for 33 years and still I get a thrill to walk on the Hoe, Mountbatten or Mount Edgcumbe, and now I have GG to share this thrill with.  The Hoe is well known for Francis Drake reputedly playing bowls while the Armada made it's way to invade England, and from the Barbican, just next to the the Hoe, the Mayflower taking the intrepid emigree's to America, amongst a host of other historical facts.  If I sound like an advert for Plymouth I apologise, I am just indulging in a self satisfied trip down memory lane, by actually revisiting the places I love with the family I love.

Drake's Drum (Henry Newbolt)

DRAKE he's in his hammock an' a thousand mile away,
(Capten, art tha sleepin' there below?)
Slung atween the round shot in Nombre Dios Bay,
An' dreamin' arl the time o' Plymouth Hoe.
Yarnder lumes the island, yarnder lie the ships,
Wi' sailor lads a-dancin' heel-an'-toe,
An' the shore-lights flashin', an' the night-tide dashin'
He sees et arl so plainly as he saw et long ago.
Drake he was a Devon man, an' ruled the Devon seas,
(Capten, art tha sleepin' there below?),
Rovin' tho' his death fell, he went wi' heart at ease,
An' dreamin' arl the time o' Plymouth Hoe,
"Take my drum to England, hang et by the shore,
Strike et when your powder's runnin' low;
If the Dons sight Devon, I'll quit the port o' Heaven,
An' drum them up the Channel as we drummed them long ago."
Drake he's in his hammock till the great Armadas come,
(Capten, art tha sleepin' there below?),
Slung atween the round shot, listenin' for the drum,
An' dreamin' arl the time o' Plymouth Hoe.
Call him on the deep sea, call him up the Sound,
Call him when ye sail to meet the foe;
Where the old trade's plyin' an' the old flag flyin',
They shall find him, ware an' wakin', as they found him long ago. Thank you for joining me, have a wonderful time wherever in hte world you are, and hope to speak to you tomorrow. Love Bubbles