Green Patches

Oh the weather outside is frightful

 

At the risk of bringing the wrath of a certain Archdruid down on my head  - let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!

Useful and Acceptable Gifts

I was puffing my way up the hill to church last Sunday; at the last minute as usual, but I just had to stop and pick up these conkers.  I dithered for a nanosecond (I mean, a fifty-something year-old woman getting all excited over something like this - honestly!), but my inner five year-old won in the end, you'll be glad to hear.  The same inner five-year old that I remember popping out during my first retreat seven years ago now, as I wandered round the wild garden at CSF Compton Durville.   It was like exploring a jungle! I was  so thrilled! By the time I went home I must have gathered half of the Somerset countryside on my windowsill - plus any number of creepy-crawlies besides.

To return to last week,  off I hopped to church where I arranged my treasure carefully on the pew in front of me, and, I regret to say, didn't really take in very much of the service at all that morning. Never mind, for once I've managed to get ahead of myself, what with Harvest Festival coming up and all. I came out of the sacristy this afternoon to see one of the flower ladies busy decorating the place with a lovely collection of leaves, conkers and other autumal goodies. Somebody is going to find it rather difficult to concentrate this Sunday as well, and we're not just talking about the children. My inner Busy Fauve is dying to go for a run. As I'd suspect too,  the insect life that might have come into church with the decorations. Who knows? If they hang around for long enough, they'll be able to take part in the pet blessing service the following weekend!

 The beech husks in the photo are another 'treasure' unearthed by my resident Fauve and I on our walks which make me smile.  Do any bloggers remember the classic Joyce Grenfell monologue Useful And Acceptable Gifts where she plays a (Very Buckinghamshire) countrywoman giving a lecture to a Women's Institute on how to make a 'boutoniere' out of beech husks?  Wonderful. Any road, I'm not able to pass a beech tree at this time of year now without giggling quietly to myself. 

So, I'll be up there this Sunday, ploughing the fields and scattering away. And I'll be thinking about boutonieres, earwigs and the gifts of laughter and wonder.

 

 

 

Forever Autumn - Blog of The Week

 

Pom- pom- pom, pompom, pompompompom pom-pom-pooommm...

Never repeat yourself, did I say? Oh dear.  Oops, rules are made to be broken and all that... Guaranteed to make  even the most po-faced personage  smile (I'd love to see what they'd make of Franciscan liturgy),  thought-provoking  and possessed of  an unerring timing that helps me put all my angst-provoking spiritual lingerie-entangling into perspective.  Yes, Blog of The Week goes yet again to those cyber-coenobites and liturgical virtuosos  - The Beaker Folk of Husborne Crawley. 

 

Autumnal musings

From an old favourite by Stewart Henderson:

 

" ...In the shaping and stacking

of this pruning season,

when there are a few, final flowers

let us be

still, facing Autumn

as the soil turns over

and becomes amethyst

whilst sleeping,

and the wombs of muted roots

brood with honey and hue.

 

For what appears as in demise

then contradicts,

what's dead can rise."

 - Stewart Henderson, Still, Facing Autumn, Plover Books, 2001