"There is a crack in everything"

Repair work called Kintsugi on Hakimi tea bowl. 16th century

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in

Yesterday whilst thumbing through the news I came upon one of those 'gasp of horror' items.  Someone was speculating on the Earth being split in two by a gigantic earthquake.  I thought of us all spinning out into space creating a mess of humanity, actually it made me smile for its nonsense.

Then I heard that a Christmas tree had been erected in a suburb called Bucha in Kyiv,  In the colours of yellow and blue of Ukraine, the lights run on a generator.  The sound you will hear in the town now, the engine noise of generators.  No water, electricity or comfort and yet still the Ukrainians fight on against a terrible dictator and his entourage of yes men.  It beggars belief in this day and age. I do not use false words to describe the terrible nature of war for it speaks for itself in all its cruelty.  Especially the training of conscripted Russian young men for the war. Certain death for some.

Such things glide through our days but also there is the gentler stuff of life going on.  

I also watched a delightful documentary of a Japanese old lady who still made sweets to sell at 95 years old. She would cycle off to the forests and hunt for the best bamboo leaves to wrap the red bean paste sweets in.  And would take extraordinary care over every aspect of her work.  She was coming to the end of this enterprise, there was sadness and yet acknowledgment of her coming end, though she laughed about whether she would live to a 100 years old.  Her son worried about her and had bought her a pair of red wellington boots so that if she fell amongst the trees the rescue party would find her.

I have watched a couple of documentaries and things are beginning to rationalise in my mind.  In Japan the old culture uses local natural things, bamboo which can be used for many things.   Their dyes have always seemed paltry to me, but minerals are used for Paul had a large collection of them.  Included of course would be several indigo plants up to the beautiful turquoise and pearls used in painting.

 A reminder that it is Paul's birthday today and a memory that in Shinto a rope is wound round a temple's sacred tree.  The ceremony is called Shimenawa

 

What I like is the reverence for trees in the Shinto culture.  Apparently they are seen as linking to the spirit world and  you commune with them.  There is a book about the old trees of Britain,  Thomas Pakenham - Meeting with Remarkable Trees.  He has also written of other trees in the world, we do not really respect trees in this country.  Often seen as a nuisance an cut down if they happen to be in the way, we use them as show pieces in a garden or as timber.  Perhaps more respect would help nature thrive more.  Especially leaving the late flowering ivy that garland a tree, useful pollen in the  autumn for bees.

So just gathering thoughts, I end up with Leonard Cohen's words in 'Anthem'

Lyrics

The birds they sang

At the break of day

Start again

I heard them say

Don't dwell on what has passed away

Or what is yet to be

And lastly, the  Hare Bell,  Frailest of flowers yet to be found in most places, high up on the moors or down in the meadows.  Magic is in everything..

Which led me to look up a flower I used to see on the Somerset downs, the harebell, belonging to my favourite group of flowers the Campanula or bellflowers, and with such a name plenty from Grigson on this delicate pale blue flower of summer.
"Bluebell of Scotland or not, it was also the Old Man's Bell, the devil's bell, which was not to be picked, the Witch Bell, the Cuckoo's Thimble, and in Gaelic the Cuckoo's Shoe, brog na cubhaig. In Ireland this fine etched plant is sometimes mearcan puca ,  thimble of the puca* or goblin and it was a fairy plant in the South-West of England and of course the hare" (which has so much folklore and is also an Easter/witch animal).  The Englishman's Flora - Geoffrey Grigson.