A New Beginning

These are strange times....

and strange times...with time to think..and the normal hurley burley of existance gone...give rein to 

reconsidering old ways.

I started blogging in 2010...goodness!

I feel the need to put some thoughts done each day now.

The potter and I are in lockdown...we are of an age...so I walk eery morning in the garden looking for the new buds....new life.

The magnolia...like so many others ...is magnificent this week.

Stay safe...stay well

Much love from the Potters House Penketh.

November Bonfire

Nothing makes the potter happier 

than a quiet Sunday afternoon 

sitting watching the old branches and the autumn leaves burn 

as the smoke flies up wards in the still air.

A Poem for Thursday

This poem has had a spring clean....some editing!

It amazing what a month or two of lying low can do for words.

The arrogance of birds...
or ...
The jealousy of ground dwellers.

Here's what you get for having a tree in your garden.

You get magpies and crows, wood pigeons and robins,

 Who perch on the very top branch in an April morning

When the mellowness of Spring mists are rising.

And they look down at the world around them

 Feeling superior to us below at ground level.

And that's what you get for allowing a tree

To reach its ultimate height...... apart from the oxygen.

...you can see more of my pics at instagram geraldinesnape

The Greening of Penketh.

The local council has set up a programme of tree planting here in Penketh...hooray!!...

We have been doing our own greening over the 34 years since we took over the land which belonged to Greenalls the brewers.

Then it was used as an unofficial tip...dumping ground for old bikes, prams, wooden windows and shattered glass....awful.

Below is the birch stand we started to plant as each member of our family was born.

Now there are eleven...and probably no more until the grandgirls...all five...add to the numbers...one day!!!

Each April I watch the greening of the birch grove and marvel at the soft green leaves as they develop.

A Poem for Thursday.

Did they say the season is winter?

Low sun

shining

through thinning trees

lighting up flies

with gold

hovering high

then dropping low

in autumn columns.

Apple green grasses

tastefully arrayed

 fallen leaves

streaked by low sun

shining

in yellow strips.

Over all

eleven tall silver trees

birch-hugging

in a family group

unbreathing

as if waiting

for the season to begin.