Climate

"The priority for our communities, movements, and decision-makers must now be to end the era of fossil fuels and transform our societies and economies towards sustainable systems designed to address peoples’ needs, safety and wellbeing, not profit and greed."

Tuesday, July 31, 2018

Goldseekers or the North men

Orm the son of Gamel acquired St. Gregory's church (Kirkdale) when it was completely ruined and collapsed, and he had it built anew from the ground to Christ and to St. Gregory, in the days of king Edward and in the days of earl Tostig."

Orm Gamal suna bohte Sanctus Gregorius Minster ðonne hit wæs æl tobrocan and tofalan and he hit let macan newan from grunde Christe and Sanctus Gregorius in Eadward dagum cyning and in Tosti dagum eorl.

Do you ever wish for another life? mine would be in the Saxon period with the Scandinavians coming in to colonise - not too brutal of course.  In the Domesday book in 1066, Orm was the landowner of this village, a jarl or earl and had many more land holdings in the area. In 1086 it was Hugh, son of Baldric, officially called Tenant-in-Chief, the value of the village had fallen from £12 to £5 during these dates.  This great book of taxation tells us there were 21 villagers but only 2.1 households.  Situated twenty odd miles from York an ecclesiastical centre that had a lot of power and various personalities vying for top dog. 
England at this time did not really exist as a whole unit, we were a country of tiny kingdoms, though some were large like Mercia.  This part of the country would have been Northumbria, though before that, the kingdoms of Deira and Bernicia.
Note; Before 1066. Tostig the son of Earl Godwin of Wessex and the brother of Harold II the last Anglo-Saxon king of England, was earl of Northumbria from 1055 to 1065.

Jorvik, thought to mean 'Wild Boar Settlement' or York was a Scandinavian stronghold, today a 'reality' museum captures the people and smells of an age, where these industrious people worked. Damp conditions, parasitical worms, fleas, etc it wasn't exactly a wholesome life, but in Coppergate they plied their trades, Jorvik was a stronghold of the Danelaw territory.



As our village belonged to the manor of Kirkbymoorside, I suspect that Orm only visited as a landowner, and was kept fairly busy looking after all his other landholdings and presumably collecting the annual tax of grain and animals.
The rampaging spirit of the Vikings had been tamed but they would have brought a fierce presence to the Anglo-Saxons living here.  The spirit captured in the hogback tombstones found at Lythe or Lastingham.

to be cont..

https://northstoke.blogspot.com/2010/04/look-at-whitby.html

Monday, July 30, 2018

Monday 30th July

The Barbecue;

Paul panicked somewhat on the day as the heavens opened up, (he is the events convener) but a meeting in the pub's car park, a generous offer by Rosina and Paul Bell and the world righted itself.  Living in a village when you are a recent incomer can be difficult adjusting to those whose family have lived here for generations.  Yet the heart of the village still beats strong, and since Paul has started an email service, it is starting to work.  The two families who fell out over the wind turbine incident still sit at opposite ends of the tables, yet both contribute so much to the welfare of the village.  We talk of 'both ends' of the village, because there seems a little middle enclave of newcomers, some who do not attend.  
I was aghast/cross when someone told me that the person who owned one holiday cottage in the village had about 8 other houses, another person the same in a village called Wombleton.  So where are we housing our young who live in the district?  I can only hope that the the government sorts this one and comes down heavily on such people in the way of taxes, the same of course goes to those 'buy to let' houses.  Either we must have a system where people own their houses, or a system where people pay a decent rent and are protected in the terms of their renting.


Come on let's dance! flashing shoe girl

Jill selling raffle tickets, we all managed to get our bottles of wine back.

New and old faces

Sunday, July 29, 2018

Sunday

Hill farm, in the midst of rain, you may spy a rainbow


The weather has TURNED, strong winds and rain but don't moan we need it, and I expect parts of the country are still dry.  The barbecue went well, people turned up with big bowls of beautiful salads, and Harriet outdid herself on the cheesecakes and chocolate cake.  The 6 barbecues were put in an open part of the barn, which was unfortunately truly draughty from the great open wooden slats that surrounded the great barn door.
The meat was extremely tender, though I didn't taste any but we brought some home for Lucy.  It was marvellous how everything fell into place, Lyn handled the food, the raffle tickets were called, large amount of booze raffle prizes, and Rosina, the farmer's wife, kept everything moving along.  We had bought our own plates and cutlery, so it was just a question of taking everything home.  I had done a large bowl of mayonnaise potatoes with halved bantam eggs on top, which always seems to go well.



Saturday, July 28, 2018

Saturday watching the black clouds creep up

Well two magnificent storms last nights, or, the alternative 'God has been moving the furniture around'  a childhood explanation.  The lightning lit up the sky, thunder rumbled most of the evening, now and then breaking out overhead in thunderous bellows and then the rains came.  Water poured from our uncleared gutters, a sheet of water in front of the kitchen window would have done any Chelsea Flower Show Garden a spectacular show.  And then we are having a barbeque today in the pub next door!  It looks quiet this morning though they forecast showers through the day.
My hens survived, the large hen Phoebe has her own run and the coop, the two bantams, Lady Jane Grey and Fay the other two 6 foot runs plus a small hutch, which they don't sleep in but I covered them up.  When out, the pecking order is being bullied by Phoebe, who doesn't actually hurt them but they run to us for protection, they are very cute and well 'hefted', still haven't visited the front garden though..
The electricity went off a couple of times but the only casualty are wretched clocks that belong to the oven, etc.  I am so happy for the garden and the birds who will surely find some worms now the grass is wet.  The farmers have been busy all week bringing the crops in, and yesterday the large buddleia which bloomed three days ago, had several coloured butterflies on it plus a visit from a humming bird hawkmoth, so our butterfly scarcity, though there are plenty of white cabbage around, is slowly increasing.
What is happening in the rest of the world?  I don't know because our country's news is so narrow minded and to be honest if i hear that word again - Brexit - I could scream, same goes for that clown in America.  Why does news have to be so salacious, Prince Charles has been defending the wrong bishop, accused of abuse of boys.  But the wretched bishop was of course protected by his own church as well and the middle aged white men who believe the world is there for their own plundering.   Now we are being told that 'fake' news is undermining democracy, hey, news is only the very subjective viewpoint of the individual.  What is truth?

Edit;  Only because it is marvellous how people pull together.  No barbeque next door but up on Hill Top Farm, which already had the tables and chairs and everyone went up there to put everything in place in the enormous barn, which just happened to be cleared because of a birthday party.  Now everyone will have to be told because of change of venue....

Thursday, July 26, 2018

Thursday 26th July



Here I sit, a turban on my washed hair and the milkman has just brought me the 20 kilo sack of wild bird seed and drops it on the front porch.  The birds get through a sack in about every two months and even the bantams eat it as well.
But my thoughts have been elsewhere, firstly with Peter Gabriel as they mentioned WOMAD on the radio this morning.  Bath and Solsbury Hill, the climb to the steep top, someone once asked me were there any eagles round Bath - of course not!
Across the valley of the A46 and my Langridge walk, which I truly do miss and of course old Moss my constant companion on walks.  You cannot beat the downs around Bath as the most beautiful countryside, this is where the Cotswolds hills come to a halt.




Wednesday, July 25, 2018

Sunny days

Amongst all the talk of the drought and farmers experiencing depleted crops, the world still goes on. Harvesting goes on well into late evening here.  Greece and its devastating wildfires tragically taking its human toll was surely a lesson that the natural world operates its own systems. 
The weather is hot all around the world, we may wish to call it climate change but we are also at the mercy of natural forces such as the Gulf stream and the Jet stream.  Of course our actions create climate change, whether we drive cars or use heat, the solutions are of course to restrain the pollution of the environment around.
I started with harvesting as I walked down Salton Lane, the morning was perfect, the great bales of straw jumbled up in the field.  Still, cool air, and the little sparrows chattering away to themselves.  Occasionally there was silence which held the world memerised in its hand.


Everywhere golden fields and straw wrapped in plastic.

The Vale of Pickering was once an inland lake, the hills surrounding it.
And something else;  Watching a cruel, provoking taunting on a forum today, I almost went in to intervene but held my peace, though this came to mind.


and taking the last line, their cruelty is their problem not mine.

Tuesday, July 24, 2018

Village Events

There we were last week thinking that the barbeque had to be called off with only 6 tickets sold, this week it is nearing 60!   Panic. So where are the table, chairs and marquee, not at Graham's farm but up on the hill farm, where they have been hosting a birthday party.  The food to be ordered from the butcher is now under way, people are asked to bring salads and to pay Harriet for their drinks at the pub.  I am to chase up late payers on Saturday, not something I am looking forward to.  The men have come forward to shift tables and chairs, hopefully the farmer will bring them down though he is supposed to be harvesting on Saturday.  
Our barbeques are a real village event with everyone wanting to come,  Harriet is happy to host it in the pub car park, she doesn't have to cook though her puddings will be on offer!  No rain probably, amber alert for goodness sake, will we all be on stand pipes by the end of the summer I wonder?

The cool shade of old trees has never been so welcome....


Monday, July 23, 2018

Sevenish

Another hot week, so I took Lucy down the village and snapped the plants I wanted to save from this year.  There is an abundance of berries on the trees, apples hang heavy and even our two plum trees have plenty, one has to be propped up.  Three 'lucky' rowan trees I counted, the holly is covered with green berries.  Creamy meadowsweet, tall pale teasels, and even poppies have shown their faces.
Yesterday another two amateur historians stopped by the church and we had a long discussion on the Battle of Brunanburh in 937, site still unknown though the University of Nottingham say it is the Wirral where it took place.  One man was interested in all the stones, here we are talking Saxon, in the churches, our church has a later Norman date, the other man, and I really envy anyone who can recite long lengths of poetry, would come out with apt pieces of poetry.
Fennel, its seeds always remind me of the gobstoppers of childhood, when having sucked one of these you came upon the fennel seed in the middle.

poppies add their bright colour to the countryside and verges

meadowsweet creamy lightness

teasel, gloriously perfect and used for wool



himalayan balsam, rather small here

the copse at the back of the garden, I always love how the sun rises behind it early morning

holly full of berries, it will be a good winter for the birds.


Saturday, July 21, 2018

Saturday 21st July

Well what can I think to write this morning, a rather dull one, though the artists group that is residing in the village were washed out at Appleton-le-Moor yesterday.  I chatted to a couple of them, 'ladies of leisure' taking their paintbrushes in hand for a holiday..... All 18 put a great strain on the resources of the pub, poor Harriet and Lucy and the young staff having to do a 'Jesus act' and produce 5000  fish dinners - ok I exaggerate, from 12 fish dinners.  Quite a lot of the village go in for the cheap fish and chips on Friday, also people who order as well to take away, as we do, only because the portion size is so large that we eat one portion between us, and the animals get some to.
My two little bantams produced their first perfectly round small eggs yesterday as did the hen, not to be outdone. Hard boiled they will look dainty in salads.  
I went to the local library yesterday to return a couple of books, and decided to look at their reference room, which did not really have much going for it except 'Ryedale History' journals which come out each year.  Someone came in, apparently he was studying Kirkdale church and a settlement which he described as North of the church.  That actually would seem a perfect premise for a church that now sits deep in the countryside alone.  He reckoned Rieveaulx Abbey had destroyed this once Saxon  Minster church and the community that lived nearby.
Summertime and you meet the interested amateur historians all over the place.  The day before and I talked to someone about our sulphur spring, which appears in the River Seven, and further on at Salton.  Then taking a big leap through the countryside, at Harrogate.  Unfortunately you could only get to to it through the 'kissing gate' in the church yard, and it has been fenced off by the people who own the land down to the river.

Up to the end of 1st World War the villagers on Mondays would collect water from the river to fill the copper boilers for the weekly wash.

Apparently it came out green and slimy, and the villagers would let it settle in buckets for 24 hours.  If you are complaining about lack of water think how it must have been then!  They must have been thrilled when the stand pipes were introduced.



Wednesday, July 18, 2018

Occasional England



The Secret Life of Cows by Rosamund Young.  A book described as gentle and meditative and a bit of a shock to those that eat something 'with a face'.  But she sells their meat, and studies them with a somewhat obsessive nature.
We went to Helmsley yesterday for a coffee at The Vinery, and as we went back to the car park, which had all the recycling bins, Paul went over to the book bin and found this book in a remarkable condition, (don't think it had been read).  I read it yesterday afternoon, and found her stories of families and friends amongst bovine companions, sad as well as funny.  If we treat animals right they show us that their lives are as important and maybe as complicated as ours.
The cows are kept until the end of their natural life, allowed freedom between the inside barns and outside fields.  This is an organic farm in Gloucester, feed is natural, the goodness of the land built up from 1953.
The farm house, Kitts Farm is a gorgeous example of an old Cotswold House, but probably too large and draughty to live in, I am always happy to see these old houses still existing, their vernacular architecture telling us the story of the geological nature of the area.

Edit; it should be Worcester not Gloucester...

Tuesday, July 17, 2018

Holding the balance between

Today as I have wandered round the internet, I am aware of the need for argument, the need to put your own view across, perhaps I should read Jung, this snatched from a website, ( which I know I shouldn't do!)  

"If the subjective consciousness prefers the ideas and opinions of collective consciousness and
identifies with them, then the contents of the collective unconscious are repressed. The
repression has typical consequences: the energy-charge of the repressed contents adds itself, in
some measure, to that of the repressing factor, whose effectiveness is increased accordingly. The
higher its charge mounts, the more the repressive attitude acquires a fanatical character and the
nearer it comes to conversion into its opposite, i.e., an enantiodromia. And the more highly
charged the collective consciousness, the more the ego forfeits its practical importance. It is,
as it were, absorbed by the opinions and tendencies of collective consciousness, and the result of
that is the mass man, the ever-ready victim of some wretched “ism.” The ego keeps its integrity
only if it does not identify with one of the opposites, and if it understands how to hold the
balance between them. ...


We are inundated with 'news' Brexit and Trump come to mind, I notice how people are polarised between the different arguments, in actual fact we are not able to dictate the future it will work out by the number of 'chances' thrown into the mix. Rain Trueaux, someone who's views I would not necessarily agree posted a video on 'kindness' and this I would agree with wholeheartedly.  The argument that one should actually not even approach politics on a blog is something I do not agree with.  Why? well we all get angry how things work out, especially as they (the politicans all get paid well) do such stupid things.  So was Jean-Claude Juncker drunk or did he have sciatica/back pain, I think the evidence for the President of the EU was pretty damning on the side of one too many, and I have to thank Cro for showing me that video.  What does that video show I wonder to leavers/remainers can you make a correct choice of either?

But to the small simple things of life, Lady Grey and Fay, are out strutting their stuff whilst big villian Phoebe hen swipes out on them should they step out of line.... there is a children story there.

Lady Grey is obvious, Fay (which means fairy) after Arthur's sister Morgan le Fay

A walk this morning after the thunderstorm last night, wet grass and a cool tinge to the air.






Sunday, July 15, 2018

Bantams

We set off yesterday, a 30 mile drive, in fact the way we went to Eskdalemuir, to Scotch Corner.  Scotch Corner has such a ring but when you get there there is nothing to see!  We went deep into the countryside to Lords Farm, and ate our sandwiches here, at the end of a long farm track, and my owner of the bantams sailed past.  But we eventually found her, they came back and produced two beautiful blue Pekins, actually they are quite grey but very sweet.  Obviously used to people talking to them, they 'pip' gently back.


How did they settle? well our solitary hen made her upset very noisily all afternoon, stomping around and complaining.  I did try opening the hatches of the coop for a meeting to take place, but it was all somewhat fraught, so the hen, Phoebe had the coop and the two little ones slept outside, though I did cover their run with a quilt -  yes I know....
So it will probably be a few days before they will all settle down, but they are sweet little creatures...

Thirsk on a Saturday afternoon market day



Not named yet but settling in


Saturday, July 14, 2018

Just a thought



"How do you think Britain in the 19th Century would have looked if you were Siam, or Burma, or China, or the Afrikana settler's in South Africa, or indeed (in the preceding century) the North American colonies?  Crude, brutal, perfidious and culturally insensitive, big, greedy, power hungry oafs.  Now the tables have been turned and the viewpoints reversed.  And we don't like it up us, do we? 
Matthew Parris in 'Trumps Tells us Truths we don't want to hear"

Historically accurate but funny at the same time, we are getting back some of our own medicine under this new 'wild card' Trump.  I do love the British sense of humour and the barbs that go with it.  As I watched thousands express their disdain of Trump, I wondered if it will flow into his psyche, alter his conscious, or will he treat it with contempt and cries of 'false news'.

I take one more paragraph from Parris,  the first.....

"Kissing Theresa May better after roughing her up was neither contrition nor revision.  Donald Trump played soft cop to his hard cop. It was that stomach-punch that was indicative......exquisite torture a cat playing with a mouse"

Now if it would have been me, not Theresa, I would have slammed back at him for his boorish behaviour and manipulative ways, I might even have ordered him out of the country, she has a right to do so, though rather extreme!  Fawning is the word that comes to mind, how can we trust any politician?

The Real Story, BBC World Service - Does Protest Still Work? 53 minutes.

Friday, July 13, 2018

Almost but not quite Lucy!

Yesterday I went for a walk with Lucy over the fields, admired the crab apple tree, plenty of jelly this Autumn.  The plants along the river side are growing like giant triffids, apparently there are shoals of brown trout in our river according to John.
We came to the end of the fields, normally I open the five bar gate and we would set off on the dangerous zig zag bend over the bridge and along the verge home.  It did not work out that way, the farmer had mown the grass along the path and a large gap under the gate allowed Lucy out onto the road.  Do you think she would come to me, she just checked that I was behind her and then set off for home.
Now I know she is deaf, but such blatant obstinancy made me cross, and as I tailed her, she was jumping in and out of the traffic, which thankfully slowed down for her.  We made it home eventually, though I got really scared as a motorbike came up.  Yes she is still alive and unrepentant for her waywardness, Paul said lead on all the time, should I get a whistle to break through her deafness or should I give up on obedience?  She will be 11 years old this July.

Thursday, July 12, 2018

Thursday 12th July

Spring Witch by Colin Blanchard

"Spring witch passed through the edge of the wood then bidden by a blackcap and watered by a willow warbler's trickle the ground turned green where her feet fell."

So my print has come home, Antony did a good job on framing, a dark blonde wood with a pale green matt.  It seems strange amongst the Japanese prints, and has replaced an old painting we bought from a local dealer.  This old painting has a history of falsification, a print over painted with oils but it is very Yorkshireish.
When I look at the 'Spring Witch' it will remind me of the pale lemon of the primrose in Spring, it will remind me also of scouring the woods for mushrooms, but most of all the words will remind me to accept the fact that witches, fairies may not exist but it would be magical if they did. ;)

The last of the lilies have opened, a pale lemon


Wednesday, July 11, 2018

Wednesday

The love of my life said yesterday you haven't written anything for a couple of days but words do not necessarily spill out of my head at a moment's notice.  Politics have turned into 'The Mad Hatter's Tea Party' there is nothing to be said, except watch them spin on the proverbial head of a pin.
The weather remains hot though I heard a rumour of a hurricane on the way, think she is called Harriet.  Which is the name of the manager of the Sun Inn next door, they had their sign down yesterday as the sun had disappeared on it and were putting another transfer on.
Paul and Keith have finished tarting up the old notice board for our village, dug three foot holes for the post in soil that is like concrete and now it awaits Keith's artwork.  He is one of these ardent workers, going abroad every year to do voluntary work, such as Peru this year.  We are both in awe of him.
Have sourced a couple of blue Pekin bantams and will go on the weekend to collect them from the farm in Bedale, they are appearing at the Yorkshire Show tomorrow, so I hope no one snaps thems up.   It will be a bit like Lucy's claim to fame, in the fact that she has been to Portugal and lived there, though her prowess as a retrieving spaniel  was nil.  Now she is deaf, gunshot is something she doesn't hear.  But will I own prize winners?  And more importantly will Phoebe our one hen be good with two newcomers.



And I got a new 'igloo' type hedgehog house which now sits snugly under the bush out of sight,  I think our wild life must be suffering in all this hot dry weather.  No worms or insects, though there are thousands of little black beetles all over the roses.  The young badger their mothers, baby sparrows dance up and down for seed, jackdaws strut the lawn gobbling everything in sight when I throw out food, and yesterday a fledgling swallow almost crashed into me, squeaking with fright.


Sunday, July 8, 2018

Sunday 8th July

The time of the lillies




Church's coke house, though originally according to listed building info, this was a watch house.  Which means the 'lock-up' in olden times when drunken drovers rolled out of the small ale houses that lined the village street.
Yesterday the world stopped for a short time while England won the match against the Swedish team, can I say that I always feel sorry for the losing side (not the least bit competitive).  But unfortunately the match coincided with the church's annual event of strawberry teas! So not many people turned up.  We had moved the pews in the morning to form horseshoe squares, and the books came in, the raffle prizes and various things to sell.
Also, no old boiler to make the tea but a state of the art water dispenser which hands out ice water or boiling water at the switch of a button.  I must admit I love the people who make it happen, there was Graham with his grandson Harvey, who wanted to watch the match, I had tried my computer in the church that morning for him but it only picked up the house on the other side.  But  his mother's phone relayed the information as he sat outside, and he would come running into the church when goals were made, two as we know.
Christina on the cake stall, yes I bought a chocolate one for Lillie now in the freezer, I even bought three books for £2, 'A Year in Provence' does anyone remember the scorn with which it was received? Wiki hint...

"In 1993, the BBC produced a television miniseries based on the book, starring Lindsay Duncan and John Thaw, with appearances from Alfred Molina and James Fleet amongst others. Unlike the book, the miniseries was not well received by critics; A Year in Provence was later placed at number ten on a Radio Times list of the worst television programmes ever made with the writer, John Naughton, describing it as a "smugathon ... which achieved the near impossible – creating a John Thaw vehicle nobody liked".

Time travels on.  Read an article yesterday that said the world is in its hottest period since goodness knows when, and on the news this morning they are already beginning the rescue in Thailand of the 12 boys and their coach, what a worrying time, it will take 11 hours to get each child out.


CHINESE PROVERB.
Because they have song,
not because they have answers,
is why the birds sing.


Friday, July 6, 2018

Mouses

The other day I ordered a wired mouse for my computer, because the new wireless mouse, seemed to go through batteries at an enormous pace.  Ordered from Dell, I had specific details of when it would arrive, which was Wednesday and tracking device email.  Well it did not, mine was 86 in the delivery line and when I checked, the poor delivery driver had a 100 deliveries.
No moaning from me, and yesterday he turned up on the doorstep and as I signed asked him how many deliveries this day - 108, he had not even stopped for a meal.  Asked how he felt about this, he said he would stop internet shopping, except on Wednesdays.
Slave labour? overworked, makes you think every time we press that button too buy, some poor sod has to deliver it!  Yes I know it is a job but one not properly paid for, he will never get rich on a service wage.  Perhaps we should start looking at the world in a different way but not Amazon drones!




The mouse works fine Sharon, (who also has had problems with wireless mouses) but have just commited another 'sin' ordered a hedgehog house because I found some hedgehog poo on the front doorstep.

Thursday, July 5, 2018

Thursday 5th July


Strawberries and raspberries from our local PYO shop, though to be quite honest, you can only pick over the weekend.  These beautiful fruits from Sinnington tasted as good as they looked, and though there are the makings there of Eton Mess we ate them as they came.  The wife makes her own chutneys, jams, cakes, both chocolate and coffee, plus scones and of course meringues, plus they run a small nursery on the side. Hardworking.
Lucy and I went round the fields yesterday, it was much cooler, the two fields by the river are just kept for hay but both owned by different farms.  So one was cut, the other field grasses as tall as an 'elephants eye'.  But the verges had meadowsweet springing to life along with the blue of the wild cranesbill.  Meadowsweet has such a myth around it, its sweet aroma strewn on the floor of many a medieval house.  But according to a Wiki entry.

"meadowsweet has been found with the cremated remains of three people and at least one animal in a Bronze Age cairn at Fan FoelCarmarthenshire. Similar finds have also been found inside a Beaker from AshgroveFife, and a vessel from North MainsStrathallan. These could indicate honey-based mead or flavoured ale, or might suggest the plant placed on the grave as a scented flower"

A Wiki capture of meadowsweet in Wharfedale, North Yorkshire

Himalayan Balsam rears its rather pretty head along the river, the cut field has  cut the heads off, the other field has allowed it to grow, but this could be because the farm has recently been sold and is under restoration.

Mr. Trump =  Wasteman ;)


Wednesday, July 4, 2018

Wednesday morning




Roses and the 'everlasting' sweet pea, at least the perennial pea which produces masses of long runners that flop even though I have strung them up. 
Each day I go around and look at my poor thirsty plants, but just keep my vegetables watered, and check on the bees.  Not many, though our lawn is covered in short white clover, I only ever count about 6 at a time.  George Monbiot wrote 'In Memoriam'

 "I will not allow myself to forget again: I will work to recover the knowledge I have lost. For I now see that without the power of memory, we cannot hope to defend the world we love."

Counting the insects around us and we know they have disappeared, our local 'hospital for hedgehogs' is inundated with sick hedgehogs, hoglets need feeding, their mothers lay squashed on the roads, and O by the way we won the ******* football last night, sorry but occasionally my cup overspills and roses don't compensate.  Plant foxgloves to watch the miracle of a bee gathering pollen, check that the other pollen feeders, the minute wasp like creatures are also there.
Nature is not punishing us because there is no rain, nature just works that way, but as I see the great tractors thundering by, I know the countryside is being dehumanised by industrialisation and I am powerless.
Strawberries feature at the church this weekend, which has been amalgamated into other parishes since we have no church warden.  Yesterday, Paul took my hand and showed me the new notice that has appeared on the notice board, basically because I could photograph it for him, perhaps I should take up the offer and pray for a better world, but I just know it won't happen!



Propped up against the fence is a large notice board, K has made three panels of history about the village, and both he and Paul are fixing the noticeboard, when finished and large posts have been dug into the parched earth, passing people such as walkers will be able to learn something about the village.
Though I moan about the lack of bees, one of our plum trees is heavy with green fruit, and also the cultivated (although it doesn't play the game of cultivation with its viscious thorns!) blackberries shows promise of a heavy crop.
Not forgetting to say Happy Independence Day to American readers, and there is good news, the 12 boys and their coach being found alive was wonderful...