Alphabet of Songs 'B'

Dear Diary,

Here is the next song as promised in my last post. I did like the suggestions given, Bird on a Wire, Beautiful Day and Blackbird but in the end I picked a very old favourite of mine.

Well I promised a ‘B’ and there are two in this one. Another beautiful song with great lyrics sung by the great singer, Emmylou Harris. Boulder to Birmingham.

The lyrics follow below.





Boulder to Birmingham


I don't want to hear a love song
I got on this airplane just to fly
And I know there's life below
But all that it can show me
Is the prairie and the sky
And I don't want to hear a sad story
Full of heartbreak and desire
The last time I felt like this
It was in the wilderness and the canyon was on fire
And I stood on the mountain in the night and I watched it burn
I watched it burn, I watched it burn.
I would rock my soul in the bosom of Abraham
I would hold my life in his saving grace.
I would walk all the way from Boulder to Birmingham
If I thought I could see, I could see your face.
Well you really got me this time
And the hardest part is knowing I'll survive.
I have come to listen for the sound
Of the trucks as they move down
Out on ninety five
And pretend that it's the ocean
coming down to wash me clean, to wash me clean
Baby do you know what I mean
I would rock my soul in the bosom of Abraham
I would hold my life in his saving grace.
I would walk all the way from Boulder to Birmingham
If I thought I could see, I could see your face.

I hope you liked 'B'.

Any suggestions for a 'C' song?

Let me know.
Bye for now,
Go mbeannai Dia duit,
Cait

Angel of the morning

Dear Diary,

I have just borrowed a book from the library, it is Time Out’s 1000 songs to change your life.  I am going to blog some of my favourite songs that jump out at me, maybe one each day, from A-Z and today I am starting with the letter ‘A’.  This first one is an all-time big favourite song of mine from way back, it is Angel Of The Morning, sung here by Juice Newton, I hope you enjoy the video. There were several good versions of the song by different artists on YouTube but after much deliberation I eventually picked this one.

I have been feeling a need for flowers lately, haven’t we all?  This video has some beautiful close-ups of all different kinds which  I hope will make for you a visual as well as an audible delight.  The song may be a tribute to a one-night stand but I think it is such a beautiful piece of music.

Angel of the Morning

There'll be no strings to bind your hands
Not if my love can't bind your heart
And there's no need to take a stand
For it was I who chose to start
I see no need to take me home
I'm old enough to face the dawn

Just call me angel of the morning, angel
Just touch my cheek before you leave me, baby
Just call me angel of the morning, angel
Then slowly turn away from me

Maybe the sun's light will be dim
It won't matter anyhow
If morning's echo says we've sinned
Well, it was what I wanted now
And if we're victims of the night I
won't be blinded by the light

Just call me angel of the morning, angel
Just touch my cheek before you leave me, baby
Just call me angel of the morning, angel
Then slowly turn away from me

I won't beg you to stay with me
Through the tears of the day
Of the years, baby

Just call me angel of the morning, angel
Just touch my cheek before you leave me, baby
Just call me angel of the morning, angel


Then slowly turn away from me

Chip Taylor

Bet you can’t wait to see what the letter B will bring.  Any suggestions?

Bye for now,
Cait.

Nightfall

Nightfall


I shall burst if I don’t write a poem

but all too soon the day will waver,
night will quickly fall and the hours will darkly pass
and though my bed is calling I am far too wide awake
and cannot fall or even falter as it beckons.
As I undress, sparks fly off me in the dark and they dissolve.
I wonder where they go and start to dream…

I shall burst if I don’t write a poem


My unwritten words are electron-charged,
such is their yearning to be borne.
There are whirling echoes in each conscious moment
as the questions swirl around inside my head.
Are the ways of night just an ending to a day?
Is slumber a kind of journey to another realm?
Or is it all Just a Dream?
Is our dream-life Life itself and daytime our life’s dreaming?
Do I dream you and you dream me?
Is it all about the waking or the sleeping?
The thinking or the scheming?
Is it all about writing, dreaming or just being?

I shall burst if I don’t write a poem.


Cait O’Connor

Saturday Poem

Moles



Humans, like frozen driftwood, have been in disarray
but it is a good year for the snowdrops
which have blossomed and have thrived amongst the snow,
bringing only joy; a sign of spring, a flash of hope,
a fillip for our jaded, over-wintered souls.
Beneath my frozen ground are really far too many moles;
furry illegal immigrants with their really tiny hearts
that are surely gentle and as soft as their coats.
I cherish them, ignoring their giant hills of dark black earth
which cover nearly all the garden and beyond.
Pitying their homelessness, their temporary state,
I treat them just as guests,
for like all vagrants they must be forever on the move
and are always made unwelcome in our cruelly human world.
They seem to be just pausing for a while and taking stock,
gaining some ground, but always losing more,
quietly hidden and hurting no-one.

Cait O'Connor

Fun on Friday

Dear Diary,

It's Friday so time for a bit of fun. I was going to do a serious blog but that can wait. I have just done some skool homework for Purplecoo and so I am posting it here. Why don't you have ago too and let me know if you do.

My favourite time of the day or night is evening, night, bedtime. I am NOT a morning person.

Favourite day of the week is Sunday.

My favourite month of the year is May.

The worst meal anyone could put in front of me is a mix of avocado, aubergines and anchovies with olives.

Today I must do.... Spring cleaning!

If I had to spend an hour locked in a lift I'd like to be with.... (would you change this if it was four hours? No. Tony Benn,.

If you looked in my loft you'd find... I haven’t got a loft.

One drink for the rest of your life - what would it be? (you can have water also) - Cranberry juice.

The colour I think I look best in is... Blues

I wish I knew..... The meaning of life

My favourite song of all time is ...... I can’t choose just one, sorry. Imagine by John Lennon would be a good anthem.

Have you ever had a lucky find? What was it? - I traced my (late) father on the net, would that count? Have never found anything tangible.

My favourite precious stone is..... Rose quartz and amethyst.

My 4 grandparents names were.....Daniel and Catherine, Thomas and Gladys and my 8 great-grandparents names were.... Mary Ann and Henry, Thomas and Ellen, John and Bridget and Stephen and Ellen.

My homework idea to use is... Write your own manifesto for the forthcoming election. And we can see who would get the most votes.

My quick dessert recipe is.... Something with raspberries, digestive biscuits, brown sugar/cinnamon and cream.

On my bedside wooden chair which serves as a table are books, books and more books. A few favourite poetry books. A book clip on type light which is fantastic - I highly recommend it. Always a notebook and pen, tissues.

In a perfect world I'd have a .... self-cleaning house, a non-ageing/getting ill body.

I'm looking forward to .... Every day.

Favourite chore/most hated chore? - I was only talking about this yesterday. Cleaning the fridge and the oven. I love hanging out washing, lighting fires, opening windows to let bad energies out and good ones in…….

St Patrick's Day

A traditional Irish blessing

May the road rise to meet you,
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
The rains fall soft upon your fields.
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the palm of his hand.

May God be with you and bless you:
May you see your children's children.
May you be poor in misfortune,
Rich in blessings.
May you know nothing but happiness
From this day forward.

May the road rise up to meet you
May the wind be always at your back
May the warm rays of sun fall upon your home
And may the hand of a friend always be near.

May green be the grass you walk on,
May blue be the skies above you,
May pure be the joys that surround you,
May true be the hearts that love you.


Before I go

here

just for me

a favourite song from a favourite singer.

Enjoy.

Signs of Spring?

Dear Diary,

Happy Mother's Day

I carry from my mother's womb a fanatic's heart.

 William Butler Yeats

This could be the first day of Spring.  The wind has lessened and has lost its cruel bite and the Sun has such warmth in it.  I have been doing a spot of spring cleaning indoors and a bit of sweeping outdoors so I am feeling pretty smug now but a wee bit worn out.  Time for a quick blog before I cook,

Blessings have been absent far too long.  Well not absent but have not been noted here.  Here are five just for today.

Sunshine, spring weather. 
Goes without saying really, I am rather repeating myself.

Free logs.  Our local forestry angel felled a dying ash tree for us and we now have plenty of free wood.  The tree was right on the edge of the riverbank and was leaning rather -  so much so that had it fallen it could have blocked the flow of the river.  Not a nice thought should it flood again.  Nothing pleases me more than the sight of a load of new logs and free ones are even more pleasing to behold.

I bought myself a bunch of daffodils on Friday for 99p.  I have them on my desk and they are so cheering, they were only in bud but have opened now into those lovely big old--fashioned blooms.  At work I have on the counter a little pot of miniature ones, narcissi probably and I noticed that one or two have twin flowers on one stem - I have never seem that before.

Ireland won the rugby yesterday!  Sorry Wales.

*

Having read two really good novels recently I am seeking suggestions for a good novel to read..  I have tried one or two but they have not gripped me.  Any suggestions welcome.  I need a good book to live in.

I have rediscovered Delia Smith lately.  In the absence of a mother to do so, Delia did rather teach me to cook  many years ago and I am still impressed by her.  I call her St Delia.    Her recipes never fail and always taste delicious.  I dip into her website when I am brain dead and can’t think of what to eat or what to cook. She has many wonderful suggestions and recipes for almost everything you can think of.  The site comes in handy when I am doing a shopping list.

Talking of shopping I have a bit of a wish list.  I am coveting a carpet bag even though I already have one and I am wanting to buy tops of  (tiny) floral prints _ I am sure it is the need for spring flowers manifesting itself.  I am also wanting to fill the cottage with scent, it may have to be candles instead of flowers.  I guess I just can‘t wait for summer.

I watched a good film last night.  Disney for grown ups really.  It was ‘Up’ and was really enjoyable, if you haven’t seen it try and catch it because it is really one for oldies.  Quite moving and works on several levels if you get me.  I have The Hurt Locker to watch next, that will be a different film altogether. 

Well that’s all for now, I have to go and cook.

Bye for now,
Go mbeannai Dia duit,
Cait.

. 

Letter to Jack Frost

Dear Jack.

You looked so cool in your white suit and in the beginning I must admit that you bewitched me with your wintry charms.

Your ways with magic led me down paths to cosiness and sweet hibernation,

I watched you endlessly from my windows and lost myself in your beauty.

I believed your promises of snow-to-come and you did not let me down.
And I revelled in the blizzards and snowed-in days of laziness cut off from humankind with only dogs, books and warm log fires for company and hot soups, stews and toddies. 
(ah the toddies…).

In truth though you are a cruelly harsh and unforgiving guest who has stayed too long.
(Why do you stay so long?)

The ground you whitened is so hard and there is just no release from your stone-like icy clutch.  Beloved birds have perished at your feet, as have frogs and toads, the young, the old. 

Faded away to sleep in a long, long cold. 

Depression is rife, there is some sort of epidemic in these parts.
It is a blight of the blues where only sadness rules.

I am sated now, you have worn me down, tired me out with your coldness
You have frozen me so that I am chilled through down to the very bone,
chilled and dulled, but I really should have known that was always your intention.
 Just to freeze.

On top of everything I am now poverty-stricken, (sky-high bills for fuel) and worn out with fetching and carrying all those logs to burn, ashes to empty, hearths to clean.

Your hoarfrost images of beauty will stay an imprint  in my memory; those trees and fields in all their splendour, I hope they come again.

But now a new love beckons; she is called Spring and she is warm and forgiving. Her charms will beat yours hands down.  They are endless.

So am I fickle?  Yes maybe I am. 
But all my passion for you is spent.

I am bored with the ways of Winter.

This is goodbye.

Trelystan

The church at Trelystan

Friday was a day for much looked forward to meet-up of a dozen Purplecoo folk and began with a nice lunch around a huge circular table in a pleasant pub in Shropshire followed by a visit to the nearby little church of St Mary's in Trelystan which sits alone on a hill, beside two ancient yews in the middle of a field and with views to die for.

I shall remember this day for its sunshine, its wealth of snowdrops, its icy wind and the lovely warmth from the people I met for the very first time after having only known them over the Internet.

There are a couple more photos on my photo blog.