Saturday 4 December 2010

DECEMBER INTO SPRING 11






AT EASTER WHEN MICHAEL AND I WERE
celebrating on top of the pass above Crickhowel, the family were taking a break in Turkey.

THE WHOLE OF THIS SECTION (Turkish pictures)  HAS BEEN DELETED BECAUSE OF ABUSE. SOMEONE STOLE A PERSONALITY FROM ONE OF MY PICTURES IN ODER TO ABUSE AND BULLY ANOTHER CHILD AT SCHOOL. THE MATTER IS NOW IN THE HANDS OF THE POLICE.




On top of the pass with the industrial Methyr Tydfel some miles down the valley to one side, and beautiful Crick Howell (I'll abandon trying the Welsh spelling,) nestling between the green hills far down the other side, I'm listening to sheep calling lambs, and a pair of ravens, watching them flying in and out of their nest in the dark granity-like rock escarpment above.




Where I sit, here under this old thorn tree it feels like I'm on top of the World. Today, Easter Day, my new book was published on Lulu.








Flat out now. Has it all been too much, all this excitement? Michael set off and climbed up into the Kingdom of the Eagles - at least he joined the ravens up there, and on his downward path, took this unauthorised view of Esme, the author, Out to the World.




Michael, back from the raven's tops, resting under the old thorn tree. We both look, as our friend Skip said, like a pair of old hippies. I prefer to think he looks like the wise old man. Maybe the shaman. I'm sure it's a magical tree. Certainly a magical day for us both.












UP AND DOWN THE PRIMROSE PATH










FIRST; A Silly Song for Spring!

Spring is springing,

Birds are singing.

Sun's beams abound

But the warmer it grows,

My fingers and toes,

Plus the tip of my nose,

All remain unaccountably froze.











Three in a bed












practising Telemann









Family relaxing. Oldies exhausted.















Sickening, isn't it. I'm going to have to break the universal law again, No sooner did I swear I'd never swank about my grandchildren's achievements after *** musical genius results last December, than her youngest sister ****arrived yesterday shyly whispering her news. 'Look at my tee-shirt grandma. I've been playing in a tournament at school, and they've made me captain of the rugby team. I'm the only girl in a team of boys, but we won the tournament. Best out of 6 games, all really difficult, but we won, and they gave me this tee-shirt and a lot of games equipment for the school.' So I just had to ask her to pose for her photo in the corner of the room. Didn't I!













This is *** playing another sort of


game. This time with Dad-dad



**** In another corner.















CHRISTMAS DAY AT DRUIDSTONE A rare sight. Our hotel, The Druidstone, poised above icicles on the cliffs above the beach. I was kicking myself at not packing my camera at the last moment, but this picture was taken by Chris Segar. A photographer who knows what


he's doing, Chris and his wife were also a guests at the hotel, and he generously gave me some of the shots he had on his camera. Later in the day he also took several stunning views of the Christmas Day sunset over the sea. After the cold start, the day itself was crisply perfect. Blue skies and calm blue sea, with people taking a walks on the long, golden beaches all the way from Broadhaven to the south to Newgale to the north along the coast until sunset. The sunset colours that Chris captured were amazing; pearly violets, blazing oranges and golds, and I'm hoping to find a way to download a few to add a very different aspect to this unusual but monotone view above.












AND NOW, BREAKING ALL RULES
that say one doesn't praise one's own offspring in public.... I learned last night that Ellis, my middle granddaughter, age 12 had taken her music exam at the Guildhall School of Music with a pass mark of 98% This qualifies her for playing in an adult symphony orchestra. Her instrument is the double bass, the choice of which came about when at the age of 6 she went with her father Mark, one Saturday morning to buy a quarter-sized cello and returned with a half-sized double bass. The 98% mark is the highest ever given and is beyond 'distinction' grade.


Fond parents are aburst with pride - Grandparents Michael and Esme are bereft of words. This is the girl, who a years ago was taken to the Royal Observatory at Greenwich and asked a bearded chief astronomer if she could press the button which opens the great telescope lens. He asked he what she wanted to be when she grew up, and got the reply, 'an astronaut.' 'Go for it , girl' he told her. ' I wish my own granddaughter was as adventurous and brave as you.'











WITH GREAT SADNESS I return to my sprig of Glastonbury Thorn pictured in our garden a few weeks ago --- before the arctic winter befell with a vengeance. I used this image and some accompanying text for my this year's Christmas card. No sooner were they collected from the printer than I heard on TV news that some fool in a fit of mindless violence had taken a chain saw to the original tree which stands below the Torr and cut it to the ground.
So in honor of that 2000 year old parent tree one of who's offspring shoots, (so it's said) is now rooted in our garden, here's the picture again. (Unfortunately and mysteriously it somehow got deleted.)




AND, BABY, IT'S COLD OUTSIDE. WOW! Better stay in. What a shock it was after that glorious November -- all those colours; trees bedecked in gold, amber and russet, blue skies and sunshine for weeks, that we're suddenly into Arctic weather. Temperatures soaring ? --there must be a word for an unbelievably rapid fall, but can't wait for it to emerge -- as I need to look out some extra clothing quick. Back to double underwear and porridge for breakfast long before the anticipated date. Winter Wonderland, if you want to see it that way from inside your house, but a bit of a pain if you're having to dig out your car from a snow drift before venturing out to forage for food.