Flowers and afternoon sunlight at St Mary's.
Just a short one today as I am rather busy - Monday chores to do and I am soon to be chasing the dead again. It's an addiciton that doesn't damage my health - apart from the lack of sleep that I am suffering from which is caused by too many late nights on the Ancestry website.
Thank you for the comments on the previous post (self portrait poem) - it was written a bit tongue in cheek and I used a few untruths, sorry - a little bit of poetic licence - but some days I do feel like the archetypal grumpy old woman. But I am not yet completely steely grey...not quite yet.
Yesterday we went to visit a church where one of M's ancestors was christened in 1730 - St Mary the Virgin's in Middleton-on-the-Hill which lies in deepest Herefordshire. And I mean deepest - it took us ages to find the place; as usual it was a case of really poor signposting. The area of Little Hereford is a literal maze of narrow lanes, farmland and scattered cottages, it felt like going back in time and we could imagine how remote it would have been when his distant grandfather lived there. M has Huguenot roots so I am busy researching all about them.
This is the church, it is 12th century and was so very beautiful and peaceful. The approach to it was across a straight track between two wide fields of barley, they were fields of gold indeed yesterday in the golden sunlight and the wide flat fields reminded me of Norfolk. Yesterday was a real summer's day for a change - a perfect afternoon to be out and about. I am pleased to say that all the churches we have visited in Herefordshire recently have been unlocked and so welcoming with their atmospheres of peace and perfect calm.
Another sweet flower arrangement on a wall.
Before I go here is a poem I wrote that was inspired by my latest addiction.
Another day, another show, a drama in the making
but I wake to insignificance, hearing only a small whisper
for I am clothed in human form
and only chasing the ungrateful dead.
Tracing the past has narrowed my vision.
Is this how an addict feels?
For like a drug, it absorbs and excites me
yet shrinks me down in an unstoppable fashion
till I am the user at the break of dawn,
or in the dead of night when you may catch me
as I leap from branch to branch,
peeping at paper records, tapping at keys.
One man and one woman; it always ends with two
and their love and passion for the other;
‘tis the human trait we cannot help but recognise.
Then it dawns: we are all just part of One Big Pattern
almost holy and connected..
I travel back as far as only hope can
to reach the proud ones standing tall astride tree’s majesty.
Then I fade once more to narrowness and feel so small
not realising that I am still on stage now,
and it is not yet time to take my curtain call.
Tomorrow I shall recommend two books for you that are really worth reading if you feel you don't have enough hours in a day. They embrace the magic that lies in the word 'less' - something I have been thinking a lot about lately.
So do call again.
Bye for now,
Go mbeannai Dia duit,