Tasmanian shelves

Hi everyone and I hope I find you all well and rested after the weekend.

Why Tasmanian shelves, I hear you ask, it is a tribute to a fellow blogger Jo, in Tasmania whose weekly blogs inspire me, I look forward to opening her blog on a Monday morning and reading about her thrifty life.  Last November she had some shelves built in her office which did not come up to expectations or design, and she has finally made these acceptable as well as reclaiming and old set of shelves and the items on it are an art form in themselves.  Thanks Jo, for the inspiration, and the joy of reading your blog.

We had a wonderful weekend in Plymouth with our gorgeous granddaughter, walks on Plymouth Hoe and on Roborough Down (the gateway to Dartmoor), lots of fun and laughter and an ample sufficiency of cuddles to bottle and bring home to keep us going until next we see them all.  The highlight of her weekend was getting her grandfather to draw around her hands and feet, repeatedly, no-one could do it quite as well as he could.  Thank you for a wonderful weekend, and thanks to our son for looking after Wiffles the cat for us.  I am blessed with a truly wonderful family.

Today dawns wet with some much needed rain, but is clearing for a nice week, I am planning what to do with the garden, and when I can start on my granddaughters dresses, material having been checked and thoroughly approved of this weekend. So a full week ahead of me, but I want to try and spend a fair bit of time searching through my ever expanding poetry collection for more inspiration and coupled with Classical music seeping softly and reverentially from my sound system and into my pores I feel calm, rested and ready to absorb all that I can.

So I leave you with Jo's shelves, and a lovely thoughtful and provocative poem by Krishnakumar Chandrasekar Nair, thank you as always for joining me and have a wonderful week wherever in the world you are, speak to you next week.  Daisychain xx

Pictures, courtesy of http://alltheblueday.blogspot.co.uk/

Those dusty bookshelves of childhood by krishnakumar chandrasekar nair

Oh, give me those dusty bookshelves of the past

Where books held raptures that would last

A dry crushed flower or perhaps a frayed leaf

A worm eaten love story with an ending so neat

And all those fancy tales of faeries so good

Who lost their wands and cried in the woods

And of goblins who stole tulips and roses

All from the valley of love and happiness

And when the moon rose at the midnight hour

I would turn in my sleep and suddenly smile

Lost in a place of spells and charming power

And my cat settles softly between my legs and curl..... 

Hi Everyone, I hope I find you all well  and enjoying your week.

For those of you in the northern hemisphere have you noticed the clamour of the dawn chorus is getting more musical by the day?  I certainly have, the lone Robin's call has been joined by the Blackbird, song thrush and sparrow over the last few days, heralding the glorious onset of spring, sun and spring growth, I love watching for the signs appearing, don't get me wrong, I love all seasons, especially the start of each one.  Our local pond in the Dell is still half frozen but the ducks are greater in numbers and very hungry as are the garden birds, a good sign that nests may soon be built. 

I have bought some new material this week to make dresses for Jessica, and a workbag for me, trouble is I keep changing my mind as to which to use for what, all patterns are suitable for both, have to make up my mind next week as I have to start making them.  In the meantime I have two carrot cakes and two chocolate cakes in the oven ready for the next couple of weeks, one of each for our packed lunches and one of each for Jo, Andrew and Jessica.  I will also know whether my fleece fits Jessica nicely, which will be my guide for the dress patterns.  I am set to become very busy in the next couple of weeks.   

This weeks offering is "Dawn Chorus" by Sarah Dugdale, I hope you like it.

Dawn Chorus

BY SASHA DUGDALE

March 29, 2010

Every morning since the time changed

I have woken to the dawn chorus

And even before it sounded, I dreamed of it

Loud, unbelievably loud, shameless, raucous

And once I rose and twitched the curtains apart

Expecting the birds to be pressing in fright

Against the pane like passengers

But the garden was empty and it was night

Not a slither of light at the horizon

Still the birds were bawling through the mists

Terrible, invisible

A million small evangelists

How they sing: as if each had pecked up a smouldering coal

Their throats singed and swollen with song

In dissonance as befits the dark world

Where only travellers and the sleepless belong

Bye until next week, thank you for joining me once again, have a wonderful week wherever you are, Love, Daisychain

Snowdrops

Hi Everyone, hope you have all had a good week.

We went for a walk in the gardens at St Fagans on Sunday, one of our favourite haunts, it was very cold and I was extremely glad that I had worn my gloves and hat. The Mallards were busy playing in the lake, or were they just paddling to keep warm?  The daffodils green shoots were warily poking up through the earth, but the snowdrops were resplendent along the banks beside the lakes and in the gardens, but as we walked through the gate into the orchard we were met by a lovely sight of the snowdrops round the Mulberry trees, I really wanted to take a picture but my hands were too cold despite my gloves, so very lovingly and gallantly Richard took off his gloves and took it for me, thank you so much for a wonderful picture. If you come to Cardiff, do go the St Fagan's, entry is free, but a charge is made for parking, by all means look around the museum at the restored historic buildings, but make sure you find time for the gardens, they are really lovely even at this time of the year.  I have picked out two poems for you this week, the first is by Ted Hughes, a rather stark picture of the snowdrop, whilst the second is by Wordsworth, less stark and a perfect contrast to Ted's offering, which do you prefer?  My week to come, to complete the fleece I started and start one of the dresses  I have just bought the material for, plus complete the mini carryall sewing bag ready for my craft groups, pictures when they are done.

Snowdrop by Ted Hughes

Now is the globe shrunk tight
Round the mouse’s dulled wintering heart.
Weasel and crow, as if moulded in brass,
Move through an outer darkness
Not in their right minds,
With the other deaths. She, too, pursues her ends,
Brutal as the stars of this month,
Her pale head heavy as metal.

TO A SNOWDROP   (Wordsworth 1819)

          LONE Flower, hemmed in with snows and white as they

          But hardier far, once more I see thee bend

          Like an unbidden guest. Though day by day,

          Thy forehead, as if fearful to offend,

          The rising sun, and on the plains descend;

          Storms, sallying from the mountain-tops, waylay

          Whose zeal outruns his promise! Blue-eyed May

          Yet art thou welcome, welcome as a friend
Shall soon behold this border thickly set

          On the soft west-wind and his frolic peers;
With bright jonquils, their odours lavishing  
          Nor will I then thy modest grace forget,

As always, thank you for joining me and have a wonderful week wherever in the world you are.  Love, Daisychain