Monday, December 7, 2015

Monday the 7th December

Jo's pony in the far field, wandering out into the sunshine yesterday
Well the weather has done its worst in Cumbria and scotland, flooding towns and one's heart aches for all those people that have had their homes ruined.  The rivers ran furiously overtopping the new defences, and there is disbelief that such flooding could have happened again from the last time a few years ago. Perhaps all that rain should have been snow, perhaps we will wake up to the fact that climate change is indeed happening in the world but it will not help these people at this moment in time.  Even now as I write someone has broken down on the radio, such a bitter blow before Xmas.
We have escaped those terrible rain storms, only the wind battering like an angry sea against the house and roaring through the trees for two days, so that when I stood beneath them I feared their downfall.
The birds have been absent, yesterday one of our resident graveyard pheasants sat on the wall, looking tired and needing respite from the pounding of the weather.

I notice the following poem is making it's round on Facebook, I think peace is far away from us at the moment but Wendell Berry is always a comfort and I shall find his books later on.

The Peace of Wild Things
 by Wendell Berry

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

And exciting times; Mike Pitts Digging Deeper


  1. Thelma that poem is beautiful and has just come right for me to readit at our poetry meeting on Wednesday. We are surrounded by floods but have missed the worst of it. My heart goes out to those in Cumbria - I wonder how I could possibly cope.

    1. Glad you like it, it is a very 'green' poem to my way of thinking. I suspect most farmhouses are found on the higher ground, it is so round here.

  2. It's the wind that I hate - I don't remember storms like this, coming one after the other when I was young - it's got to be climate change - not that anyone will take any notice - those poor people - a hard and difficult situation at any time but even worse just before Christmas xx

    1. I hate the winds to Trudie, Lucy did not like them either especially when the recycling boxes were blown round the lawn and rattled all night..


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