The Joys of Gardening

Dear Diary,

In my garden there is a large place for sentiment.  My garden of flowers is also my garden of thoughts and dreams.  The thoughts grow as freely as the flowers, and the dreams are as beautiful.

Abram L Urban

My garden is not huge but it wraps itself around the cottage and there is more than enough for me to cope with, I am so lucky to have the mountain stream flowing through it and the beautiful views. I have taken photos before for the blog but I shall try to take some more this week.

The growing season is short in this upland area of Wales and certain plants just will not grow and those that do are way behind those at lower altitudes.  You soon learn what keels over at this altitude in this acid soil and what thrives I am a bit of a fair weather gardener which probably explains why I am writing today about the joys of gardening. We have had so many weeks of real summer for a change. 

Shall I list these joys?  There are many.

To start with working with the soil ‘earths’ me which does me the world of good as I live too much in my head most of the time.  I love the feel of earth in my hands and the smell of it too.  Although I have to wear gardening gloves there are some jobs that I just can’t do properly with gloves on.  Transplanting seedlings for example, or potting on. 

There is the solitude too which I just have to have at times and I enjoy my own company very much but I am not always completely alone, I am joined sometimes by M who helps out with certain tasks.  I am accompanied at times by a dog or two or a cat and always surrounded by birds; some watch from a distance, some are braver like the robins and the blackbirds who watch patiently in case some tasty morsel is turned over and laid out at their feet,  (Do birds have feet?).  I am watched by squirrels and sometimes spied on by birds of prey like the red kites who swoop above me.  There are more bees this year which is good news and always butterflies around me.  Sometimes there are sheep in the field across the river and they will stand and watch my movements from afar. I wonder what they are thinking.  Perhaps they wonder what I am thinking,

Tending a garden is similar to the practice of meditation because I concentrate fully on the task in hand and become totally absorbed within it.  I am happy and purposeful and the garden seems to be the only place where I can put aside, if only for a while, any worries that I may have.  It is rewarding when a job is done, a ‘corner’ or a bed sorted and improved, an area cleared of weeds brings much satisfaction and reward for much hard work.  And it is ongoing as plants GROW (usually).  Weeds GROW too but I have learned to enjoy, well perhaps enjoy is not the right word; endure perhaps, the chore that is weeding.  My thoughts wander and I often find inspiration while I am doing it.

Gardening is physically exhausting sometimes and I have to limit myself in case I overdo things but at least it beats going to a gym and it is so lovely to be out in the pure fresh Welsh mountain air. The best advice I can give is to take it in small doses and set a time limit - stop when you are still wanting more and then there is the next day to look forward to.  A bit like writing I guess.

Yesterday I gardened in soft rainfall - West Cork weather I call it  - which suits me well.  It was warm but with the softest of rain, real Irish weather, rain that started off more like a mist but soon became the sort that quickly makes you wet through without you realising.  But for me it beat the sweltering heat any day, I was so happy.

Gardening presents challenges which for me, being an Aries, I relish.  However, being an Aries my enthusiasm is apt to wane before the job is finished.  I must try harder….  It is an inexpensive hobby if I restrict myself when I go to garden centres (very hard) and if I wanted to I could grow a lot of my own food…perhaps one day.

Just lately I have begun to see the garden as somewhere I can be creative rather than just somewhere to sweep, cut back, weed and tidy. This is quite exciting.  Just recently our phone line was down and I could not go on the net for a week - I turned to the garden as the weather was so inviting.  I realised that my life had become out of balance because I was spending too much time indoors looking at a computer screen, both at work and at home. I have had a few days off work and am just starting to feel rested.  Pottering is one of my passions and I have been concentrating on practising this one a lot.

Well I must sign off now.  The garden is quite tidy but the cottage needs a clean.  Not today though, I am not in housework mode (or cooking!). Maybe it will rain soon.  I found this quote recently, it is so true.

God made rainy days so gardeners could get the housework done.  ~Author Unknown

I must leave you with a poem. 

My dear cat Molly roams among the roses  - she’s not black but is pure white -  but I still loved the poem by Amy Lowell. I hope you like it too.


A Black Cat Among Roses

A black cat among roses,
Phlox, lilac-misted under a first-quarter moon,
The sweet smells of heliotrope and night-scented stock.
The garden is very still,
It is dazed with moonlight,
Contented with perfume,
Dreaming the opium dreams of its folded poppies.
Firefly lights open and vanish
High as the tip buds of the golden glow
Low as the sweet alyssum flowers at my feet.
Moon-shimmer on leaves and trellises,
Moon-spikes shafting through the snowball bush.
Only the little faces of the ladies' delight are alert and staring,
Only the cat, padding between the roses,
Shakes a branch and breaks the chequered pattern
As water is broken by the falling of a leaf.
Then you come,
And you are quiet like the garden,
And white like the alyssum flowers,
And beautiful as the silent sparks of the fireflies.
Ah, Beloved, do you see those orange lilies?
They knew my mother,
But who belonging to me will they know
When I am gone.

Amy Lowell

Bye for now,
Happy Gardening,
Cait.












   

 Dear Diary,


Well it has been a long time since my last posting. I have missed you all but I've had a little holiday from work and from blogging and have been spending hours battling with weeds, trying to tame my unruly garden.  I hate pulling up weeds as they are after all just living plants that are unwanted and have landed up in the wrong place.  But I have been resolute and cast out any guilt feelings.  

And hasn't the weather been heavenly?  In between pulling up weeds I've been enjoying watching Wimbledon, it's always a treat for me to sit down and watch the tennis at this time of year.  (No Safin to drool over this year but never mind).   And I've been enjoying the World Cup too, I really love to watch good football, I always have done and while I was growing up I was a Crystal Palace supporter.  I'll say no more about England's performance in the World Cup though, it's really best forgotten.

I watched two good films this week - Julie and Julia with Meryl Streep. such a good one, especially if you love cooking and it's based on a book which was originally a blog. (a true story). The other one was The Queen with Helen Mirren.  Neither films are new but I hadn't got round to seeing either.


I  will sign off with a poem, something that just came into my head. 



Positive Thoughts


The trouble with you is you are always buried
deep beneath the negatives. Shall I list them? 
Can you spare me that much of your precious time?
I thought not and in any case upon them
you and I should never wish to dwell.
You lie so deep sometimes, submerged and overwhelmed
and guarding you, on high alert and always dressed to kill,
the thought police are on permanent patrol.

I must never give up the search for you
for positives parade in many ways,
are found in truth in all our days.
Sometimes the human heroes we encounter on our daily round
are truly saints or angels in our lives.
We almost disregard them as we heed our demons’  daily noise,
ignoring at our peril all the value in a loving, kindly face,
a baby’s smile, a laugh, a hope, a rush of love,
a real belief, some words of comfort and a strength of will,
an angel’s intervention in our life.

And unbeknown to us, amidst the graveyards in our minds
we give unholy funerals to them all
when we should seek their daily resurrection
and speak, for all to hear of good news, in a mantra
or some well-worn, bright, but long-forgotten silent prayer.

Cait O’Connor

Bye for now,
Go mbeannai Dia duit,
Cait.

The Palm Reading

I crept in with sunken palms
chasms of no confidence,
a fortune in my hands for all to see,
a map of lines which I had carried lifelong, hidden,
with an eager, sometimes far too trusting, sympathetic heart.

She swept in on an air of frankincense and cedar
under an aura of rainbows, all sparkled silver and old gold.
Her tourmaline ring hung on red- ribboned silk
for she dowsed and read the tea leaves,
clouds and water, mirrors and a crystal ball.
She even saw weird shapes in dripping, melting wax.
All yielded secrets to her as she scryed.

She said I had a Water hand,
(intuitive and compassionate,
artistic and emotional, but seriously gullible
and far too unworldly for this tainted planet Earth).
My heart line was deeply curvy
(I liked the sound of that)
but I was without any minor lines.
(Well none to speak of).
No crosses or triangles, no sign of little squares.
But then she found the writer’s fork, (quite rare)
which showed a poet's soul
(kind and true with sensitivity).

On my return home, still elated, I created in her name
a bouquet of words, as we poets often love to do.
She knew the lore of flowers, threw runes,
read faces and the Tarot,
always kept her Angel cards at hand.
And when we’d bidden our farewells
and I’d looked deep into her kindly eyes of green
I had no doubt that I  had left with her the secrets
of my very special ‘poet’s life’ of dreams.


Cait O’Connor 2010

Your Song

I have given up on 'X' and 'Z' too so this will be the finale.
I have been looking forward to this one. It takes me back quite a long way but I still remember when I heard it, discovered Elton John and bought his first album.

I am a big fan of Bernie Taupin's lyrics.

Your Song

It's a little bit funny this feeling inside
I'm not one of those who can easily hide
I don't have much money but boy if I did
I'd buy a big house where we both could live

If I was a sculptor, but then again, no
Or a man who makes potions in a travelling show
I know it's not much but it's the best I can do
My gift is my song and this one's for you

And you can tell everybody this is your song
It may be quite simple but now that it's done
I hope you don't mind
I hope you don't mind that I put down in words
How wonderful life is while you're in the world

 

I sat on the roof and kicked off the moss
Well a few of the verses well they've got me quite cross
But the sun's been quite kind while I wrote this song
It's for people like you that keep it turned on

So excuse me forgetting but these things I do
You see I've forgotten if they're green or they're blue
Anyway the thing is what I really mean
Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen

Alphabet of Songs 'W'

Dear Diary,

We must be the change we want to see in the world.
Mahatma Gandhi 1869-1948

Nearly finished the alphabet!

'W' has been a delight to search for as I have found so many gems.

Too many and so very hard to choose a favourite.

Songs like:

While my guitar gently weeps by dear George Harrison, God rest his soul.

Wuthering Heights by Kate Bush - the first song I heard after giving birth to my daughter and loving it instantly.

Wind beneath my Wings.

Waiting for a Girl like you.

White Flag by Dido.

White Ladder by David Gray.

When you Love Someone.

So hard to choose just one but in the end I chose this one not only for its music but also for its message of hope for the children of our world.

Wind of Change by the Scorpions

And finally just for Frances and just for fun and just because it is such a good one.



I might have to give up on 'X' unless anyone can help me out here?

Can't wait to do 'Y'.

See you soon,
Cait.

For Vincent

'V' wasn't so hard after all. This just happens to be one of my all-time favourites with beautiful lyrics too and Vincent is the name of my late brother, the one I never got to meet, I missed him by a matter of days, God rest his soul.. Why on earth did I think that this letter of the alphabet would be a challenge?

'W' should be a breeze (hold on Frances) and I can't wait to post 'Y'. 'X' will be hard as will 'Z'. But then I shall be back to more 'normal' blogging, I am quite looking forward to that but I hope you have been enjoying the music, I know I have found it fun searching.

In today's choice I hope you enjoy not just the music but the delicious works of art too.


Vincent

Starry
starry night
paint your palette blue and grey

look out on a summer's day
with eyes that know the
darkness in my soul.
Shadows on the hills
sketch the trees and the daffodils

catch the breeze and the winter chills

in colors on the snowy linen land.
And now I understand what you tried to say to me

how you suffered for your sanity
how you tried to set them free.
They would not listen
they did not know how

perhaps they'll listen now.

Starry
starry night
flaming flowers that brightly blaze

swirling clouds in violet haze reflect in
Vincent's eyes of China blue.
Colors changing hue
morning fields of amber grain

weathered faces lined in pain
are soothed beneath the artist's
loving hand.
And now I understand what you tried to say to me

how you suffered for your sanity
how you tried to set them free.
perhaps they'll listen now.

For they could not love you
but still your love was true

and when no hope was left in sight on that starry
starry night.
You took your life
as lovers often do;
But I could have told you
Vincent
this world was never
meant for one
as beautiful as you.

Starry
starry night
portraits hung in empty halls

frameless heads on nameless walls
with eyes
that watch the world and can't forget.
Like the stranger that you've met

the ragged men in ragged clothes

the silver thorn of bloody rose
lie crushed and broken
on the virgin snow.
And now I think I know what you tried to say to me

how you suffered for your sanity

how you tried to set them free.
They would not listen
they're not
list'ning still
perhaps they never will.


Don McLean

The Moor

I just had to share this lovely poem with you as well as post my 'U' song.  I hope you enjoy both.

Next it is 'V's turn..... may this be a problem I wonder?

First the poem by a fine Welsh poet.


The Moor

 

It was like a church to me.
I entered it on soft foot,
Breath held like a cap in the hand.
It was quiet.
What God was there made himself felt,
Not listened to, in clean colours
That brought a moistening of the eye,
In movement of the wind over grass.

There were no prayers said. But stillness
Of the heart's passions -- that was praise
Enough; and the mind's cession
Of its kingdom. I walked on,
Simple and poor, while the air crumbled
And broke on me generously as bread.

R S Thomas 1913-2000

 

And now for something completely different.

The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face

Dear Frances of City Views and Country Dreams fame must be on my musical wavelength as she picked this one too. I found this version on YouTube which features more than just Roberta Flack and she still has a great voice, don't you agree?

It brought tears to my eyes.

Enjoy.

Summertime

Several folk had the same idea as me for 'S'. It just has to be Summertime.

And it is Summertime; the sun is showing herself a wee bit today though it could be a tad warmer.
Never mind, just  listen to Ella Fitzgerald, what a voice, what a song!
Enjoy.

Summertime

Summertime
And the livin' is easy
Fish are jumpin'
And the cotton is high

Your daddy's rich
And your mamma's good lookin'
So hush little baby
Don't you cry

One of these mornings
You're going to rise up singing
Then you'll spread your wings
And you'll take to the sky

But till that morning
There's a'nothing can harm you
With daddy and mamma standing by

Summertime,
And the livin' is easy
Fish are jumpin'
And the cotton is high

Your daddy's rich
And your mamma's good lookin'
So hush little baby
Don't you cry

George Gershwin

Any suggestions for 'T'?

Raglan Road

This is my choice for 'R'.  There were lots to choose from but my love of poetry won out.
It is a fusion of a much-loved poem by a much-loved poet -  put to music and sung with raw emotion by a fine singer, Luke Kelly -  God rest his soul.  I hope you enjoy it too.

Raglan Road

On Raglan Road on an autumn day I met her first and knew That her dark hair would weave a snare that I might one day rue; I saw the danger, yet I walked along the enchanted way, And I said, let grief be a fallen leaf at the dawning of the day. On Grafton Street in November we tripped lightly along the ledge Of the deep ravine where can be seen the worth of passion's pledge, The Queen of Hearts still making tarts and I not making hay - O I loved too much and by such and such is happiness thrown away. I gave her gifts of the mind I gave her the secret sign that's known To the artists who have known the true gods of sound and stone And word and tint. I did not stint for I gave her poems to say. With her own name there and her own dark hair like clouds over fields of May On a quiet street where old ghosts meet I see her walking now Away from me so hurriedly my reason must allow That I had wooed not as I should a creature made of clay - When the angel woos the clay he'd lose his wings at the dawn of day.  Patrick Kavanagh

Que Sera

Up to 'Q' now, nearly finished the alphabet!

I have had a comment saying I seem to be avoiding 'proper blogging' by posting these songs but the majority of people who comment seem to be enjoying them. For me it's a case of having started (the alphabet) so I shall finish but I shall try and do a bit of a blog alongside the song when I have the time. It does actually take a lot of time searching for songs, re-listening to them and deciding on a favourite; any journey into nostalgia can while away the hours whether it is going through old photos (another job waiting for me and I have chestfuls to sort) or listening to old songs again. And they do all seem to be old songs, why is that? Is there no contemporary music with esteem worthy of mention? There is of course and I would love to post some - any suggestions would be very welcome.

The garden has been calling me too and a myriad of other things fight for my attention on my days off. I do long to write my more usual type of blogs again with pictures, poems, photos and of course blessings and I do apologise for their absence. I shall try and make up for it in future posts.

Well Q is a bit of a cop-out I guess. The song does remind me of my childhood but I can't say I love it. I couldn't find anything else, though I expect someone will come up with one and I shall kick myself for not thinking of it.

Here it is anyway, it's a cheerful song for sure so sing along do, I bet you know all the words..  A friend told me only this week  that scientists have recently discovered the benefits to our health of singing and humming - apparently they do wonderful things to the brain and help with problems like anxiety and depression. There does seem to be an upsurge in interest in singing lately.  (I sing all the time but only when there is no-one around.  How about you?).

Enjoy!



Bye for now,
Cait

Love Songs

I spent days thinking I would never find a 'P' song and now I have three! I am posting two of them simply because I know a lot of people dislike Celine Dion but the first is The Power of Love Personally I love her voice and have asked to be able to sing with such power in my next life, that's all, it would do me. I defy anyone to say she cannot sing!

The Eric Clapton song, the very gentle Please Be With Me is an old favourite of mine from one of my favourite albums 461 Ocean Boulevard. It takes me back but it remains a very beautiful song. I hope you enjoy it.

Going back to powerful voices simply raw with emotion. The third song? An absolute classic, it's
Piece of My Heart by Janis Joplin. I haven't posted it but if anyone wants me to I will.

So it's all about love folks - as most songs seem to be: the striving for, the celebration of, or the grieving over its loss.

Enjoy.

(Any suggestions for 'Q'?)




Please Be With Me

Oh my word, what does it mean?
Is it love or is it me
That makes me change so suddenly?
Looking out, feeling free.

Sit here lying in my bed,
Wondering what it was I'd said
That made me think I'd lost my head,
When I knew I lost my heart instead.

Won't you please read my signs, be a gypsy.
Tell me what I hope to find deep within me.
Because you can find my mind, please be with me.

Of all the better things I've heard,
Loving you has made the words
And all the rest seem so absurd,
'Cause in the end it all comes out unsure.

Eric Clapton

On a Bus to St Cloud

On a bus to St. Cloud, Minnesota
I thought I saw you there
With the snow falling down around you
Like a silent prayer
And once on a street in New York City
With the jazz and the sin in the air
And once on a cold L.A. freeway
Going nowhere
And it's strange, but it's true
I was sure it was you
Just a face in the crowd
On a bus to St. Cloud

In a church in downtown New Orleans
I got down on my knees and prayed
And I wept in the arms of Jesus
For the choice you made
We were just gettin' to the good part
Just gettin' past the mystery
Oh, and it's just like you, it's just like you
To disagree
And it's strange but it's true
You just slipped out of view
Like a face in the crowd
On a bus to St. Cloud

And you chase me like a shadow
And you haunt me like a ghost
And I hate you some, and I love you some
But I miss you most...

On a bus to St. Cloud, Minnesota
I thought I saw you there
With the snow falling down around you
Like a silent prayer


Trisha Yearwood

Here sung by Gretchen Peters.
Enjoy:

Nothing Compares to You

The Man With the Child in His Eyes

It's Lola and Layla!

I have taken the liberty of posting two songs for the letter 'L'. One is especially for Frances in New York but I love it too and it certainly takes me back.


LOLA

I met her in a club down in old Soho Where you drink champagne and it tastes just like cherry-cola Coca-Cola] C-O-L-A cola She walked up to me and she asked me to dance I asked her her name and in a DARK BROWN voice she said Lola L-O-L-A Lola lo-lo-lo-lo Lola Well I'm not the world's most physical guy But when she squeezed me tight she nearly broke my spine Oh my Lola lo-lo-lo-lo Lola Well I'm not dumb but I can't understand Why she walked like a woman and talked like a man Oh my Lola lo-lo-lo-lo Lola lo-lo-lo-lo Lola Well we drank champagne and danced all night Under electric candlelight She picked me up and sat me on her knee And said little boy won't you come home with me Well I'm not the world's most passionate guy But when I looked in her eyes well I almost fell for my Lola Lo-lo-lo-lo Lola lo-lo-lo-lo Lola Lola lo-lo-lo-lo Lola lo-lo-lo-lo Lola I pushed her away I walked to the door I fell to the floor I got down on my knees Well I looked at her and she at me Well that's the way that I want it to stay And I'll always want it to be that way for my Lola Lo-lo-lo-lo Lola Girls will be boys and boys will be girls It's a mixed up muddled up shook up world except for Lola Lo-lo-lo-lo Lola Well I'd left home just a week before And I'd never ever kissed a woman before But Lola smiled and took me by the hand And said little boy I'm gonna make you a man Well I'm not the world's most masculine man But I know what I am and IN BED I'm a man And so is Lola Lo-lo-lo-lo Lola lo-lo-lo-lo Lola Lola lo-lo-lo-lo Lola lo-lo-lo-lo Lola

Enjoy!







I am a huge Clapton fan and this song means a lot to me.

LAYLA


What'll you do when you get lonely
And nobody's waiting by your side?
You've been running and hiding much too long.
You know it's just your foolish pride.

Layla, you've got me on my knees.
Layla, I'm begging, darling please.
Layla, darling won't you ease my worried mind.

I tried to give you consolation
When your old man had let you down.
Like a fool, I fell in love with you,
Turned my whole world upside down.

Let's make the best of the situation
Before I finally go insane.
Please don't say we'll never find a way
And tell me all my love's in vain.

Kathy's Song

This song, 'K' in my alphabet of songs, is from one of the first LP's I ever bought and is one of my favourite Paul Simon songs. He wrote it for Kathleen Mary (which happens to be my name!) who was a girl he met at his first ever gig in England, in Brentwood in Essex. They had a relationship and she went to the USA with him but then returned to England.

Kathy's Song

I hear the drizzle of the rain
Like a memory it falls
Soft and warm continuing
Tapping on my roof and walls.

And from the shelter of my mind
Through the window of my eyes
I gaze beyond the rain-drenched streets
To England where my heart lies.

My mind's distracted and diffused
My thoughts are many miles away
They lie with you when you're asleep
And kiss you when you start your day.

And a song I was writing is left undone
I don't know why I spend my time
Writing songs I can't believe
With words that tear and strain to rhyme.

And so you see I have come to doubt
All that I once held as true
I stand alone without beliefs
The only truth I know is you.

And as I watch the drops of rain
Weave their weary paths and die
I know that I am like the rain
There but for the grace of you go I.


Paul Simon

Joan of Arc

'J' was a problem at first. Then I remembered Jealous Guy and the gorgeous Brian Ferry and also Joe Cocker's version. But then I suddenly remembered Joan of Arc - I just hope you can stand a bit more from the genius Leonard Cohen who is one of my favourite poets.

I used to own the tape that this is from and I would play it over and over; now I have the CD and still love it. I love Song of Bernadette too but that might come later, you never know.

I have 'K' all lined up, I can't wait to post that one!

Enjoy!

Joan of Arc

Now the flames they followed Joan of Arc As she came riding through the dark; No moon to keep her armour bright, No man to get her through this very smoky night. She said, I’m tired of the war, I want the kind of work I had before, A wedding dress or something white To wear upon my swollen appetite. Well, I’m glad to hear you talk this way, You know I’ve watched you riding every day And something in me yearns to win Such a cold and lonesome heroine. And who are you? she sternly spoke To the one beneath the smoke. Why, I’m fire, he replied, And I love your solitude, I love your pride. Then fire, make your body cold, I’m going to give you mine to hold, Saying this she climbed inside To be his one, to be his only bride. And deep into his fiery heart He took the dust of Joan of Arc, And high above the wedding guests He hung the ashes of her wedding dress. It was deep into his fiery heart He took the dust of Joan of Arc, And then she clearly understood If he was fire, oh then she must be wood. I saw her wince, I saw her cry, I saw the glory in her eye. Myself I long for love and light, But must it come so cruel, and oh so bright?

I want to know what love is

It's 'I' time.  I  didn't look elsewhere, it has to be this one.

I just love this song, it would be one of my Desert Island Discs.  I know it is really sad but it touches me somewhere deep within which is what music or any form of art should do, don't you think?

I hope you enjoy it too.

'H' for Hallelujah

It has to be Hallelujah for 'H'. I also like Alison Crowe's version of the song but Leonard Cohen (whose words I adore) surely owns it.


Hallelujah


Now I've heard there was a secret chord
That David played, and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do you?
It goes like this
The fourth, the fifth
The minor fall, the major lift
The baffled king composing Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you
She tied you
To a kitchen chair
She broke your throne, and she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
You say I took the name in vain
I don't even know the name
But if I did, well really, what's it to you?
There's a blaze of light
In every word
It doesn't matter which you heard
The holy or the broken Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
I did my best, it wasn't much
I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch
I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool you
And even though
It all went wrong
I'll stand before the Lord of Song
With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Now maybe there's a God above
But all I've ever learned from love
Is how to shoot at someone who outdrew you
And it's not complaint you hear tonight
And it's not some pilgrim who's seen the light
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah.
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Good Vibrations

I'm on a roll now and already have 'H' lined up.
I must contain myself.
Tell me if you like this one.

The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face

This is 'F' in my Alphabet of Songs.

Roberta Flack owns this song as far as I am concerned, there is no contest.

Just listen.

The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face

The first time ever I saw your face
I thought the sun rose in your eyes
And the moon and stars were the gifts you gave
To the dark and the empty skies, my love,
To the dark and the empty skies.

The first time ever I kissed your mouth
And felt your heart beat close to mine
Like the trembling heart of a captive bird
That was there at my command, my love
That was there at my command.

And the first time ever I lay with you
I felt your heart so close to mine
And I knew our joy would fill the earth
And last till the end of time my love
It would last till the end of time my love

The first time ever I saw your face, your face,
your face, your face

Ewan McCall

Everytime We Say Goodbye

It's 'E' time for the Alphabet of Songs. It was hard to whittle it down as there were so many good ones.

For example:

Everybody Hurts by REM
Every Day by Buddy Holly
Everything I do, I do it for you by Bryan Adams

Eleanor Rigby by The Beatles
Every breath you take by The Police

and more. When I get to 'Z' (which may be a challenge?) I think I will have to start all over again as there are so many lovely songs out there.

This beautiful song sung by Ella Fitzgerald was Cottage Garden's choice and I must admit I love it too. I always find partings hard, even day to day 'leavings' and this song resonates with me somewhere deep within. I am no fan of goodbyes.

I listened to many versions on YouTube and I stumbled upon a version by Robbie Williams, I am a fan of his and am including it here too.

Enjoy.









Goodbye,
Cait.

Don't let the sun catch you crying

I have not blogged for many days; I apologise. I seem to have been busy with life, the good weather has filled me with energy bringing about a need to spring clean and de-clutter (yet again) and it has also drawn me outside which is not a bad thing. I am continuing my Alphabet of Songs now.

The letter 'D' has been a hard one and in the end I have chosen a song I loved when I was very young. I still love it and think it is underrated. Hope you love it too.

Any ideas for 'E' would be welcomed as I only have one or two ideas so far.

Don't let the sun catch you crying.
Bye for now,
Cait.

Democracy



Someone said there could be a Hung Parliament.
Someone else said ‘Who shall we string up first?’
The warmonger Blair or the liars,
the money-grabbers or the thieves,
the gamblers or the swindlers,
the bleeders or the cheats?

The con-men in the background? Men in black?
Spin-artists, brain-washers and blackmailers?
Or the handful of token females who crept around or simpered
with those feeble and spineless Yes-Men in their wake,
eyes only on a place in some future Cabinet?

To whom shall we grant a pardon?
Who shall we parade and proudly honour
for their brave forthrightness and their honesty?
(Answers on a postcard please, but don’t all rush).

Or shall I see you at the polling station,
an eager pencil in your hand,
itching just to make your little mark
to the Left or to the Right
or even in some real or just-imagined,
one-time-believed-in-and-hoped-for Middle Way?

As if there was a choice.

As if you had a voice.

Democracy?

They’re having a laugh aren’t they?



Cait O’Connor

Doves' resurrection

Doves’ resurrection


A pair of collared doves are nesting in the pine again;
one of the giants, a Scottish one of three,
planted ages past in someone’s sweet sad memory.
In only days gone past I have watched these birds
courting and cavorting at the river’s edge
but it is Nature’s mating dance and I can only peek.
I lay hidden now, a secret within my own nest,
peering outward through the tiny cottage window.
I see them later, landing on the branches,
creeping stealthily amongst the fronds of green,
seemingly safe and protected, (I hope all will be well).
They know not that I am there each morning
like a spy, watching, waiting for what might be new life signs.
And I wonder on this Easter Day
as I lie low - what looks in on me?
And I pray for resurrection for this world.


Cait O’Connor

Alphabet of Songs 'C'

Dear Diary,

Well it is time for ‘C’.

I had suggestions from Pamela for Caledonia which I am ashamed to say I had never heard before but as I am Irish not Scottish I feel I cannot pick that one and she and another also suggested Catch the Wind by Donovan (I love that one).

I had a great Kinks song suggested too (Come Dancing) and another song I had never heard of called Calling All Angels.

I love Candy by the fantastic Paolo Nutini (and my son sings it beautifully too).

A dear friend suggested California Dreaming, oh it is so hard to choose.

I came up with Candle in the Wind as I an a fan of Elton and especially Bernie Taupin's lyrics but it’s a bit ‘obvious’ I suppose. I like La Cienega smiled too by Ryan Adams but I guess that is an ’L’ not a ‘C’.

I asked M for a suggestion last night and straightaway he suggested this song which I adore.

Can’t Help Falling in Love with You!
(Where did that come from?).

(I was worried the song starts with an ‘I’ but it doesn’t).

There are three cracking versions on YouTube in my opinion:

Elvis of course - the song IS Elvis’s really don’t you think?

Celine Dion - I had never heard her sing it before and I was blown away by her unique rendition. I have already asked in my next life to have a really lovely singing voice and to possess the power that Celine has in her voice.

Finally I stumbled upon Andrea Bocelli’s version. I already LOVE this man’s voice and I must admit that only this version brought a tear to my eye.

So I am posting all three and would love you to vote for your favourite. Or do tell me if you have any other ‘C’ suggestions.

(Sorry about the big gaps between videos, had a bit of trouble posting).


















































Bye for now,
Go mbeannai Dia duit,
Cait.

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.