Friday, 18 April 2008

My Dad and the world around us.

As you know I have been popping back and forth helping Dad with his garden. It is only being around there that makes me see things more clearly. We complain so much about trivia. My Dad is not someone who feels sorry for himself. He accepts what life has dished out and gets on with it. Dad is losing his sight and is deaf. He is diabetic and has a heart condition. He can't see the things that I see clearly or hear those special things that come infrequently but make life more meaningful.
Yesterday morning I heard a friend, the Cuckoo, what a joyous reunion. She heralds summer here. She called to me, it was 6 a.m. and the rest of the world was quiet, just her and me. Beautiful. In the afternoon, I heard the skylark for the first time. This bird moves me to tears, don't ask me why, she just does. I stood in the garden and could see the pin prick in the sky. BUT her song, she rises several hundred feet vertically in hovering flight, sustaining her clear warbling song for several minutes at a time. Then she will sink down, singing all the while, until she touches the ground. Can it get any better?
Mum and Dad gave me this poem, it reminded them of me. To all of you, like me, who garden in all weather I dedicate this poem.
The Diehards by Ruth Pitter
We go, in winters biting wind,
On many a short lived winter day,
With aching back but willing mind,
To dig and double dig the clay.
All in Novembers soaking mist,
We stand and prune the naked tree
While all our love and interest
Seem quenched in blue nose misery.
We go in withering July
To ply the hard incessant hoe
Panting beneath the brazen sky
We sweat and grumble but we go.
We go to plead with grudging men
And think it is a bit of luck
When we can wangle now and then
A load or two of farmyard muck.
What do we look for as reward
Some little sounds, and scents, and scenes
A small hand darting strawberry-ward
A womans apron full of greens.
A busy neighbour forced to stay
By sight and smell of wallflower bed
The plum trees on an autumn day
Yellow, violet and red.
Tired people sitting on the grass
Lulled by the bee, drugged by the rose
While all the little winds that pass
Tell them the honeysuckle blows.
The sense that we have brought to birth
Out of the cold and heavy soil
These blessed fruits and flowers of earth
Is large reward for all our toil.
Have a fab weekend..............and happy gardening.


ladyluz said...

Such a beautiful, evocative poem, Cheryl. Thank you...I shall save this in my special folder.

What a treat to hear the cuckooo and skylark, neither of which we see here. But, guess what - we have a hoopoe nesting nearby and she struts her stuff in the garden when she thinks noone is around. I will do my best to get a photo.

Cheryl said...

I would absolutely love to see a photo Ladyluz, let me know if you manage to get ONE.

Q said...

Dear Cheryl,
Thank you! The poem is about those of us that must be outside! I see why your parents thought of you.
Your Dad looks comfortable so wonderful to have him near by. Thank you for sharing him. I miss mine.
What a treat to hear the Cuckoo and the Sky Lark. I opened my Field Guide to Birds of Britain so I could read about both of these birds. The aerial song of the Lark sounds incredible. I will see if I can find it on the internet so I can hear it too. On the page that shows pictures of the Cuckoo there is a picture of the Hoopoe and the Bee-eater! Wow, these are very colorful birds. How wonderful Ladyluz has a Hoopoe in her garden!WOW!!
Hope you enjoy the Full Pink Moon.

Anonymous said...

Oh What a beautiful...beautiful Poem Cheryl....
I get tatally engrossed in you lovely posts..TFS!!!
Have a great Weekend:)x

Cheryl said...

Hi Sherry....When I heard both birds yesterday, I thought what a wonderful world we live in. Do we truly appreciate it.

I will look to the moon tonight, I hope that the clouds do not hide it.

Cheryl said...

Glad you enjoyed it Terrie and thanks for dropping by.

Rose said...

Love the poem--I, too, plan to keep it. And I so enjoyed your description of the whole day.
I worked outside all day yesterday and was serenaded by the birds; their songs are a welcome sign of spring to me.

beckie said...

Cheryl, what a wonderful poem and how special that your parents thought of you! It does say Cheryl. You have a good soul to care for your parents and their garden. A lot of work, but I know you wouldn't have it any other way.
Hope your weekend is great!

Cheryl said...

Hi Beckie, Hi Rose
Thank you for dropping by and glad you are both okay after the earthquake. Days are special with our parents as they get older. Time is no longer on their side, we have to cherish the moments.

No Rain said...

Waht a beautiful post and poem. I've not heard it before, but I'm adding it to my collection. Happy weekend to you...

Cheryl said...

Tku Alyana...I am so glad you enjoyed it.

Mark said...

Cracking poem Cheryl, no cuckoos or skylarks yet. There is a place not far from my house where skylarks nest.It's great fun hiding behind gorse bushes trying to get a picture. I have managed a few good ones and hope to get some more this year.

Cheers Mark

Cheryl said...

I love the poem.
Lucky you finding out where the sky larks nest, and being able to photo them.
Ours nest in a farmers field, and if I dared (which I don't) I would probably be shot trying to take one!!!She's a very grumpy farmer, "Get of my land"!!!

Lisa at Greenbow said...

What a wonderful tribute to you Cheryl. I just love the poem. It is so very true.

Cuckoos are some of my favorite birds. We have Yellow-billed and Black-billed cuckoos in our area. Maybe we can get a picture of one this summer. I love hearing them call. Farmers call them rain birds. Maybe it is because when it rained they slowed down from their work long enough to hear them call so associated them with rain.

zhakee said...

Spending time with your folks in their garden must bring great peace to your spirit. The poem is lovely. (you wouldn't know from my blog that I too am one of those dedicated gardeners...)

Cheryl said...

Hi Lisa I love the poem to. The story about the farmers and the cuckco is wonderful. I shall tell my father he will love it.
Look forward maybe to some photo of your cuckoo.

Cheryl said...

Hi Zhakee.....Yes it is uplifting to spend time with parents. They are often wiser, and we can learn a lot from them.

It does not surprise me to find out that you are one of those dedicated gardeners. I thought you may be.

Libbys Blog said...

Excellent poem Cheryl! Says it all really!!!

Cheryl said...

It does Libby, doesn't it.

Teresa said...

Thank you for sharing this wonderful poem that brings to mind why gardeners do what they do with the soil. Your dad looks very content in the garden lounge chair even though he may not always hear the cuckooo and the sky lark.

Mary said...

Cheryl, thank you. I saved that poem because I think we sometimes wonder why we do what we do - in pouring rain, biting wind, killing heat, we persevere. You are a soul mate.

Your Dad is blessed to have you. I loved that photo of the garden. How beautiful.


Cheryl said...

Hi Teresa and Mary....My Dad is a wonderful kind man. He has taught me so much and I have great respect for him. He his happy with me, we share so much.

Yes we do wonder why on earth am I doind this etc with our gardens. BUT we know why really.

Jan Doble said...

i am touched by how tender your parents seem, by your description...and to give you a poem, says it all! the poem itself is wonderful--it describes us gardeners to a T. I very much enjoyed your description of how the sky lark flies upward vertically, singing all the way, etc. i have never seen nor heard a skylark and don't even know if they frequent the US; i am sure I have never seen a cuckoo. tho' of course, i've heard the clock:)
i will keep this poem to remind me about other people doing what i love to do. it's nice to know there are other souls doing similar things!

Cheryl said...

Hi glad you liked the poem. I have met many like minded people blogging, it has opened up a whole new world.