Soft footfalls can no longer tread
The hallway, kitchen, garden or bed

No comfort is given me at time of need
No longer noisy madam at dawn to feed

No yowls of anger when her, I ignore
Bless you Fifi and your miniature roar

Upon my shoulder now lies no velvety fur
Nor soft feline breath, from a gentle purr

My world has changed and now I must too
But I will never forget the wonder of you

I shall now think that above all this sadness
Are the 25 years you brought me gladness

News at the minute is pretty grim with what seems a daily shooting incident (and much of it up in the north of the country.) it’s hard to work out if things are getting more lawless or whether the media is simply reporting more items. Media reporting can be very cyclical when it really should be stable and that has the effect of raising things to a level way beyond their overall impact. What did someone say “there’s lies, dammed lies and then there is statistics.” I don’t think it was actually that but it could have been. Whatever the problems is, it does seem that Britain is becoming more lawless and that is bad for everyone. Probably why everyone wants to leave but I’m not sure it’s any better in other places.

On a brighter note it is going to be a warm and dry bank holiday weekend. I have been up since 5.30am peeled 10 onions which are slowly caramelising in some butter (takes about 1 hour.) Feasted on a rather large duck egg and some toast and watched a squirrel dance nimbly across the top of the wall. I’m ready for work. Whatever you’re doing have a great weekend.

Thursday 23rd Aug 2007
It’s a rare beautiful evening filled with crisp air following on from a beautiful sunny day. The birds are singing and the breeze is gently rustling the yellowing leaves in the tall sycamore tree. Mr Mouse has put in an appearance and for this one rare evening I can sit with the laptop out in the garden with a glass of “Turning Leaf”. (It’s like blackcurrant juice for grownups.) There are so many things to see in this handkerchief of a yard such as a snail laconically moving in the shade of the wall perpendicular to the growth of the clematis leaving a trail of silver across the magnolia wall. The insects that ride on the cool dusk air and caress me in their itchy embraces of annoyance. It is now almost time for the alates to take flight once again and I imagine them huddled below the earth awaiting the destiny of millennia that brings them again to this month. To the never ending cycle of renewal that marks August and the release of a million fertile queens into the air to mate and take harbour in safe and secret places ready to found new spring dynasties. Never more so the wasp and bee queens who carry the existence of a species in a tithe of their summer strength. Who survive without armies and servants all alone in warm and dark crevices till the days change again and the world is made anew. I have no army, nor servants and founded no dynasty and yet I feel I know why they can do nothing only but survive. As I have and will, to see many more August alates take flight and seal the world in harmony.

August draws to a close and with it the last hope of high summer is dragged low in a succession of days comprised of milky skies that fade into ever darkening evenings. Strong winds rock the trees and shake loose; yellowing paper crisp leaves that fall to earth and lie on the ground like sadness. For their (and my) time was too short; spent waiting in vain for the summer that never would come. It was the year that went by in the rain and now heads toward autumn. Would that the golden tree fall to come should be filled with golden days of sun to end a dismal year.

Wind enters the valley in cool deliberate waves as the breath of a jaguar tracking its prey. Rain sits abreast the wind and rides the slopes of the hills and the breath of the jaguar is felt upon one’s cheek, soft and malevolent. It emanates from a subliminal threat that creeps unseen and intuition from times long gone seeps into the heart to instil the wish for us to be somewhere else while the danger passes. It is not a good time to be outdoors and we need to head home across ground rendered smooth by time and ancient footsteps.

Sleep is slow to leave today as dawn graduates its light over a drenched landscape which is stretching long and green into the retreating night sky. The first yellow strands of sunlight fall on and between sylvan fronds and small patches of warmth descend into the mist that traces the rise and fall of the ground. It is the middle of August and I slowly awake.

15th Aug 2007

All returns to rain once again and silvered clouds are pouring down sheets of clearest water onto the waning growth of summer. There is some Lammas growth around on the trees but it looks like the main expenditure of growth this year was in June and July due to the abundant rain. I have never seen all the trees look so healthy and lush as they do this year. One gets the feeling that this wet summer will carry them through the coming years in better stead than they otherwise would have been. Still that said the first few leaves are falling (more accurately probably being blown from the branches by the strong wind,) and it is said that to catch one before the equinox brings good luck.

I was looking up Lammas and came across this site which details the Celtic seasons and moons...quite interesting so have a read. Probably a little too Wiccan or pagan for me but it is interesting to read what was believed in and wonder what we shall believe in future millennia. I am quite sure it won’t be any of the religions around at the minute. Certainly hope not anyway. Or that they have transmuted into benevolent and loving creeds. We’re not seeing much evidence of that though.

http://www.firetree.net/wheel/TimesAndTides/festivals.html

What panoply, (an impressive and magnificent display or array of something) of creatures are feeding on my fruit and nut mix on the wall outside the window. It’s ranging from a mouse to all manner of birds and squirrels. The pigeons are my least favourite as they gannet everything in sight and with a rapidity that makes me and KFC look sluggish. My favourite is Mr Mouse because he’s so cheeky and because of the fact that he has been living so close all this time and I never knew. How quick they all learn the times food is proffered to them. Somebody thought it was a waste of my money but I think it’s worth every penny. I also need to do good because I need good karma after the death of the aged spider in the sink the other day. It was big and brown and had a leg span of 100mm toe to toe and it has spent several years traversing between the upper and lower parts of the house. Always to be found moving about in early spring and late summer. Its last resting place was in the bedroom fireplace because often I could see it waiting for the lights to go out. Then I often thought that I could hear its little feet moving around the wooden floor and would leave the door open to let him out. (What a psychologist would make of that I would rather not think of!) But the mini beast could seriously move when required. Like some demented waltzer on string brown legs. Creepy things really I guess but live and let live and as mother always said “a house with a big spider was a lucky one.” (Lucky for the spider mainly, I suppose.) Just as well there is another even bigger one tucked away in the attic...perhaps there are dozens. Boy, am I never going up there again.

Been to water the leeks and potatoes tonight and got bitten by a new fiendish beetle type bug that I have not yet identified. So great, there is another mini carnivore to contend with now. Hope you’re faring better.

The sun and the mouse both shirk visibility
One retreats behind opalescent clouds
The other behind an opportune shrub
I hide from nothing sat in the evening
Awaiting another sign of slow intent
That the world should stir and show
Why I cannot help but love it so

Age cannot dim nor time reverse, the withering regret we become as agents that fall through time and space. A slow descent into minds made mad with hopeless courage. How can a life last longer than this? Time stretched into horizons that imagine vistas of wonder striding into the distance and echo the creation of the world. The heartbeat before the universe was rent and in a cataclysmic birth spawned the stardust that invades and nurtures our being. For that which makes us in the end tears us apart. Yet through it all never should hope leave until the last breath is drawn and peace takes us to those we have missed and the next great adventure.

6th Aug 2007
It’s been an extraordinary few days (the more extraordinary for being dry at least.) Why the temperature rose to 74 degrees yesterday...how hot is that? I am of course being a little tongue-in-cheek but it was pleasant to sit among the plants in the garden and feel the sun. Watch the birds, squirrels and now even a mouse that appears to be living in the sangria jar at the bottom of the box bush eat the mix of nuts and dried fruit on the wall.

Saturday I bought 2 memory foam pillows and must from now on remember to never buy any more memory foam items. Or buy the top end stuff...that was like floating on a cloud but then again that was probably the stratospheric price tag.

Sunday rose early and made breakfast with Saturdays homemade bread and duck eggs. Laid the garden table and Nick and I had a relaxing breakfast. Then made a flask of coffee and with the Observer newspaper sat on the swing to watch the world in the sunshine and devour the news. Perhaps that is the wrong way round for the news devours us in incredulity, horror and repugnance in equal measures. The leader columns argue for this brave new world while all the time promulgating the hatreds and prejudices of the old one. Because the media learnt a long time ago that trashy smut and hysteria sell and that the greater part of humanity doesn’t want to know real life is not so nice. What a bad discovery that was. Here's something from a cloudy day recently.

Patches of black hang and fester like a brooding melancholy in a deep blue sky. Sunshine floods through the voids that trace the darkness around the clouds releasing words and thoughts that slice across a darkening sky illuminating an idea. What but a world of infinite marvel could take the measure of regret and turn it into unbridled joy.