Buttons

Time & space at last to sit & think & write.

Buttons

Over the last few months I have tried to buy some basic buttons and been unsuccessful. When Mr PoppyM asked for some for his trousers I thought it would be a simple case of vi sting a wool-shop - and sure enough, they sold a variety of buttons but for exorbitant prices. I turned to supermarkets - all they sold were pre-packs of tiny buttons probably aimed at shirts. Oh to have a John Lewis on the door-step. It set me thinking about why I hadn't suitable buttons, I used to have a tin-full of them, all sorts of sizes & shapes. These were gleaned from clothing that had come to the end of their life & some came from charity shops, where occasionally big, mixed bags could be had for around a pound. My mother, her mother, my aunts and friends all had tins of buttons too. The tins were usually biscuit or cake tins with a pretty picture on the front. Inside were buttons from a variety of clothes along with zips & clasps snappers and safety pins, often there'd be part-skeins of embroidery silk & empty cotton-reels. They were fascinating to a small child, almost as much fun as a jewellery box. Looking back I can see that they held clues to family life - I guess my tins have become lost during my many moves. Back to the search for the trouser buttons- I found a great site on the Internet - The One Stop Button Shop. Here are buttons as I remembered them - 35 ordinary buttons for around £3.50. Of course they also sell pretty buttons. The moral - don't put -up with the paltry offerings that some shops offer!

I've had a quick look at the history of this everyday item. Purely decorative, functional, status symbols, objects of legislation, highly collectibles, humble and valuable.

The fabulous picture is by Rima Staines - thehermitage.estsy.com

.

The snow has gone

What a difference a day makes. Today I took the big dog for a walk, taking in a visit to the chicken pen. The hens were out & about scratching & strutting in the sunshine, for most of the previous snowy week they had been huddled in their houses just coming out when a person appeared to see if anything tasty was on offer. Today I looked back at the view & all was green & full of bird song. Last week, after a slow & slippery walk up the hills & footpaths to this same spot outside the hen pen, I looked and saw white and heard muffled distance sounds.

Normally I stride-out, walking fast to a view-point & then stop and look and listen. The big dog trots along beside me or out front when it is possible to use the full-length of the long lead. For the last few days, with snow & ice on all walking surfaces this has not been possible, we've both carefully picked a non-slippery way up to the end point of a shortened outing. The big dog is designed for snow with a thick coat, large body size & decent-sized paws &, a nose that can pick up an interesting molecule at at thousand paces. The snow has brought so many exciting smells for her - I wonder if they are new scents or familiar scents emphasised in some way by the weather. The ability to scent a pile of horse-poo under inches of snow has been a wonder to behold, the following game of toss-the-poo a great laugh. I'm going to miss the snow ploughing with the nose followed by rolling in the snow & chasing round in circles leaving great pock marks on the pristine snowy surface. Life is one big change!

We visited out ruined-church site 2 days ago, no flooding there. The Froome, that runs just a few meters away from the boundary wall, had risen about 2 metres and was racing along, especially as passed under the nearby bridge. At this site there is about a metre to go before the banks are burst - it did that in 2007, moving large bales of hay & straw around the adjacent fields like footballs. I read today that the TS Eliot poetry prize has been awarded to a work that focuses on the River Severn - I'm being to appreciate why one river could provide sufficient material for such an enormous achievement (Philip Gross).

..

.

Horse Power

Yesterday, for the first time in months I watched some dressage-to-music on TV. The sound quality of the music was awful but the horses & some of the riders were magnificent. I have seen exquisite thoroughbreds & Arabs, coats gleaming, beautifully turned-out, moving with grace & confidence. I have watched countless cowboy movies with the cowboys cantering & galloping horses of various shapes & hues, & the Native American's head-tossing, spirited,bare-back mounts. Innumerable beloved ponies, hacks, cobs & riding-school mounts have passed before me. Without doubt, the only ridden horses that make me stop-in-my-tracks to watch them are beautifully schooled dressage horses, of any level.

Dressage horses at the top of their art, at Prix-St.George level & above, are truly the elite athletes of the horse world. Those trained to this level with sensitivity, care, patience & real knowledge are a joy to watch, happy in their work. Partner this with a skilled, sensitive & courageous rider & the potential to see the magnificence of the horse shine through is there. It is possible to indirectly sense the power of a movement, as a breeze accompanying the passing horse. It is possible to visually witness the grace of a well-executed manoeuvre, a pirouette, a piaffe, even a high-school jump. But only when the horse & rider are working as one joyful, moving partnership is it possible to feel, as a spectator, the essence of horse. It's heart, it's purpose, it's life-force, it's power. All the sensory components may be there, but these alone do not reveal what a horse is - witness the near-impossibility of finding a horse portrait, sculpture or artistic representation that has "life". Horses are creatures of movement - as a car only comes to life when it moves, it's soul is released & revealed in motion, so it is with the horse. The colours, nuances, range, limitations, magnificence's are teased-out & predictably displayed by a master driver & rider under precise, testing conditions. My own personal make-up attunes me to certain aspects of physical & "spiritual" power", it's grace, poetry, scale. A top-flight race-horse is no less an athlete than a top-flight dressage horse but explosively-released power travelling directly from A to B, this revelation of power does not affect me in the same way as a balletically-moving horse. I love dance & music and in these too I respond to grace, elegance, order and that most elusive of virtues - beauty. I can appreciate most types of dance but only get pleasure if beauty is there whether it be in the interpretation of the music or the story, revealed in the lines made by the dancers, or more rarely & magnificently, when the essence of the whole performance becomes known. Like that moment when a poem stops being words & leaps out as "thing" - the word, sound, smell, person, place, object that IS the poem. And so back to the dancing horse & rider - my own little grey mare is now semi-retired but I know that inside her will always be that essence-of-horse all horses share but only some can reveal to us limited humans.

(I've lost track of who owns the photo of Goldstern)

Listening

While I was taking the large dog for a walk yesterday I stopped to listen to a bird song. It was a song that I haven't heard since moving here - the distinctive pee-wit pee-wit of the lapwing. Sure enough in the distance I could see a small flock of the birds -distinctive with their black & white wings & odd flight. I associate these birds with Nottinghamshire farmland - great flocks of them whirring in the sky filling the air with their shrill, whooping-whistle call. I checked out details about the bird and was surprised to discover his huge range over the UK - I thought it was a bird of the South & midlands - it's like finding an old friend that you left in a previous home (http://www.rspb.org.uk ).
.

Today I went to look for the lapwings but they had moved on. instead I was treated to two great sights. I threw a piece of left-over Christmas pudding into the hen pen. Only Alfie the cockerel expressed any interest in it, the hens wandered off pecking at the grass & other bits I had thrown in. Alfie stood by the pudding and on the other side of it stood a crow. Three crows regularly patrol the strip of land the hen-pen sits on, they normally only fly into the pen after scraps when humans leave the area. The pudding must have been a great prize as not only did the bird stay put whilst I was just a few feet away with the small dog but, it marked it's prize while Alfie hovered about beside it undecided what to do. Then the bird pecked at the lump & tried to fly away with it but as it must have weighed at least 3x as much as it did, satisfied itself with a small piece. Such bravery inspired by a left over piece of Christmas pud!

.

Half an hour or so later I was out walking the large dog when I stopped and looked around - I could hear the raucous racket only a groups of corvids can make. I spotted a small group at the top of a tall hawthorn. As I watched a buzzard lifted up off a near-by tree into the air & the crows mobbed it until it flew away. As it did so 2 other buzzards & another large bird appeared. The 3 buzzards circled in the air like vultures in a cowboy movie, lifting higher on a spiral & then disappearing from view. The 4th birds was not a buzzard, it's lower body appeared snowy white in comparison to the creamy/buff of the buzzards. While the buzzards soared in the thermals this bird dived away at amazing speed with broad, black-tipped wings and vanished amongst a stand of alders lining the brook. Seeing the two types of birds together in the sky clearly showed the difference between their movement, energy & shape. I am surer than ever that it was the goshawk I've caught glimpses of before. I know they are in the area as a few week back a local farmer reported seeing a dead one by the road-side. To think, if I hadn't stopped to look at the crows making a racket, I'd have missed that wonderful sight.

.

Mr PoppyM is a local man & has a pronounced local accent & use of dialect. I'm trying to record some of his colourful life as part of a book-project I'm working on. I have no illusions that I am a writer of stories and certainly not a writer of plays. So it has been quite an experience turning someone else's tales into a written form. The first two stories have been a disappointment as whilst I can capture the plot everything else gets left behind - they become a soulless catalogue of events! The latest plan is write the tales out verbatim & to go from there - it can only be an improvement.

.

The final listening thread - over the Christmas period I have listened to two radio plays - what a treat "The No1 Ladies Detective Agency" in Radio 4 & the "Wizard of Earthsea" on Radio 7. It brought back to me the simple joy of being read to! I'm now onto the "Adventures of Tin Tin" via the wonder of BBCi player - I can't recommend that facility highly enough.

..

Be prepared for the unexpected!

I know the big wide world is out there, and I've even been to some parts of it. At the moment I am trying to semi-hibernating - spend as much time indoors as possible. This is almost impossible with animals & birds to care for! Sat indoors, watching the rain or out walking dog in a familiar landscape it is easy to forget what different places feel like. This was suddenly brought home to me one morning when I read a short piece sent to my in-box. I read the short piece and thought - wow - I have no idea how I would feel in that landscape it. In that one moment, with that one thought, my whole world expanded. I was catapulted out of the familiar into the fresh & new. All that from these few lines of text....

I live near Kilauea - a very active volcano. The other night we went to the end of the road and sat at the edge of the lava field.The only light for miles was created by the glow of molten lava.There was a crescent moon and millions of stars. The scene was magical.

Every so often the vent would send up an intense orange shower of light. Then many miles away the lava would light up the sky as it flowed into the ocean. The moon set directly over the vent to and it looked like Kilauea had swallowed the moon.

The wind was incessant, constantly changing direction while simultaneously feeling balmy, restless and at ease. We sat for along time and I was deeply moved by the incredible power of creation.

Last night the land moved. There were two earthquakes a short time apart. The mantel of the earth shifted as the undersea volcano Loihi expanded.

Mother Earth is doing just fine. She's busy expanding and twirling and living with passion. We can learn much from her if we simply take the time to observe, listen and get in alignment with her power and beauty. We live as guest of Mother Earth. Enjoy your sojourn on this magnificent planet.--

With love and aloha,

Susan

Dr Susan Gregg LLC po Box 1006kurtistown, Hawaii96760US

photo from http://www.glosmorrismen.org/

.

Wintery Reflections

I'm not sure if it is to do with having lived in the Herefordshire-stix for a while, where there is no or minimal street lighting, but this year I've really appreciated outdoor Christmas lights. Walking home, up the dark hill, catching a glimpse of a tall, fully-lit conifer has lifted my spirits enormously. Resources permitting, we have plans to string lights around the 3oo year old yew we have in our church yard, what a wonderfully up-lifting sight that will be. One of our neighbours has a small globular shrub covered in blinking blue lights that I admire as I walk the dog late at night. Through some neighbour's windows, fairy lights glimmer & trees sparkle in a homely, domestic & comforting way. Up in the sky, between the clouds, shines the moon & constellations of stars. Without all these points of light, long dark winter days & darker winter nights could easily make me believe that the sun, & it's comforting light & warmth are gone forever. The warm summer days trapped in the memory, are never to come again. Indoors I have strung fairy lights around the sitting room. Over the Christmas & New Year period they stay on all night. Their soft light & reflections off baubles & tinsel creates a warming, cheering, comfortable space it's a pleasure to walk-into early in the morning, even before the heating kicks in.

For a number of years I've disconnected from celebrations on the 25th December. I don't think this was a conscious thing but a year or so ago I noticed that I had no emotional links left to Christmas at all. It's great that 50% of the world stops to celebrate the 25th, or at least do something different on that day. The specialness starts on the 24th, late in the afternoon - the traffic sounds fade away & then pauses and eventually stops - for me that is Christmas -a special stillness & quietness. I think a final parts of the "Christmas effect" ended when I came face-to-face with the awfulness this day presents for some. I can see those children's eyes as they tried to hide themselves from our innocent questions about Christmas dinners & presents. For them these things didn't exist, they stayed out of the home for as long as possible, becoming as invisible as possible. If I'd have realized in advance, I could perhaps have given them a different day....

I had a truly up-lifting mid-winter's day. Nothing exceptional happened, I walked the dogs, tended the horse & chickens, did all the usual domestic things. For whatever reason it was a day I spent particularly connected to the turning of the seasons, more "at-one" with nature than usual. At peace even though chaos was swirling all around. I quietly opened my Christmas presents & drank-in the next phase of the year.

Signs of the year's next phase are clear to see, the buds on the trees & the shoots from the spring bulbs. I'm so looking forward to the hundreds of snowdrops that we've inherited at our church site. I've planted several hundred bulbs myself, they were an unlabelled bargin batch at an auction so it's going to be a real surprise to see what comes up.

Happy New Year

.

Geese and other birds I know

Imagine this - I'm sat quietly, half-watching Morse on the TV, the rest of my attention on typing at the PC. The fire's on & bread is rising under a tea-towel - it's just a few moments away from going into the oven. Then the dogs leap up & erupt into barking & snarling - it's in response to the tap-tap-tapping of the resident site goose at the door - he's demanding food! I cautiously peer-out through the door glass to check, Mr PoppyM has heard spectral-music at the church site & friend's have recently taken photos with ghostly apparitions in them - but there is just the goose on the top step, looking at me through the glass with his blue eye. I throw him a few handfuls of oats, he eats & wanders off.

Earlier today I saw the same goose on the pond, which is his home, swimming about with a group of young Canada Geese. I think they are some of the grown youngsters that hatched there earlier in the year. It was good to see him in a group, a single goose is a sad sight. He was originally part of a small mixed flock of domestic geese. Last year the Chinese geese were re-homed after pecking & knocking over someone. That left 3 white farm geese & one buff goose. The two females built two big nests side by side & laid about 20 eggs in them. A few days before they were due to hatch two men smashed all the eggs. The geese were obviously distressed, the RSPCA's view on the incident indifferent. A few weeks later the two white geese were found dead, Shortly afterwards the buff goose vanished without trace. There was much concern that the remaining goose would not survive but it has. I had hoped that the young Canada geese would spend the nights on the pond with our domestic goose but they don't. This evening as dusk fell, I saw them rise up over the trees around the pond, honking. He doesn't seem to spend nights on the pond, even though there are two mallards, youngsters from this years hatchings, and several moor hens who do. He prefers to walk about the site peeking at friendly doors for food & "roosting" next to a car.

It has been a bird sort of day today. As I was walking up the hill this morning a buzzard passed a few meters in front of me at head height. It was a mixed-up range of browns & buffs - scruffy looking. Later in the day I think I caught sight of the same bird swooping across a field, disturbed again by my approach, this time with a large dog. A bold male robin landed on the field gate as I fastened it behind my horse. There are one or two bold robins at our church-site who appear unperturbed by our presence - watching close by as we dig, or burn twigs, eat our lunch and generally potter about. And at home a male robins sits on the bird table dominating it like a lord, or picking-up left overs from the duck & goose food.

I took the large dog with me to feed the hens today & was delighted to see that the one small Black Rock, who has remained tatty & bald in patches for ages, has finally grown a new set of feathers. She's the last to "feather-up" after the moult. For months the flock has looked tatty. I have consoled myself with the realization that at least these hens have lived long-enough for a moult - they really do look magnificent with their new clothes on. Alfie the cockerel must be feeling as good as he looks as I've heard him crowing again - he has been a bit subdued while his feathers have been coming-through. We are still getting about 5 eggs a day from the girls, which we are very pleased with & put down to good feeding & a comfortable home. I think of brussel sprouts as "the devil's vegetable" & refuse to eat them. I grew quite a few this year and much to my extreme pleasure hardly any have made it into our home! We agreed to leave the plants in the ground for the hens to peck at. Over about a month the plants have been reduced by the hens to stalks with leaf ribs! I hear-by up-grade brussel sprouts from "devils' food" to a "hen friendly" vegetable.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/cariboub/

.