RESURRECTED 89

Ladybird4Ladybird4 Third rock from the sunPosts: 26,532
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Hello Rezzers. A view of Lingmell and Scafell Pike to start our new thread.
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Cacoethes: An irresistible urge to do something inadvisable
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  • star gaze lilystar gaze lily Posts: 12,718
    edited 11 January
    Morning everyone 🙋‍♀️🙋‍♀️
    Back slightly better this morning, but can't sit on the sofa comfortably. So still sitting on the grandfather chair. 
    Thank you for the 
    Link PF, might do  
    a few of the easier 
    looking ones for now.
    I'm sure you'll find something suitable Debs. What was your mum's favourite colour? Perhaps you could add just a hint of something, like a light scarf with the black dress. 

    It's raining and very cold today, forecast for next week looks pretty grim too.
    Have a good day everyone
  • Ladybird4Ladybird4 Third rock from the sunPosts: 26,532
    The Glory of the Garden
    With thanks to Rudyard Kipling.

    The garden is a favourite place just packed with pleasing views
    Of borders, beds, and shrubberies, green lawns and avenues,
    Trees, flowers, ponds and bushes; fat robins bobbing by,
    The result of all our labours, right there before the eye.

    The greenhouse and the potting shed which are the heart of all,
    Are packed with every 'vital' tool, just by the garden wall.
    The mower and the secateurs, the compost and the tanks,
    The shears, the forks, the spades and gloves; wheelbarrow, pots and planks.

    A garden is a work of art, such treasures are not made
    By singing 'Oh how beautiful' and sitting in the shade.
    But kneeling, digging, lugging stuff, the chores that fill our lives,
    Like grubbing weeds from gravel paths with broken kitchen knives.

    The endless tasks - like mowing lawns and pulling weeds with care.
    How often have we heard that cry - 'I didn't plant that there!'
    And when your back stops aching and your hands begin to harden,
    It's time to sip that cup of tea in the 'Glory of the Garden'.

    by Helen Piddock Jones.

    My Bestie gave me a copy of this last Thursday and I thought I would share it with you.


    Cacoethes: An irresistible urge to do something inadvisable
  • Ladybird4Ladybird4 Third rock from the sunPosts: 26,532
    Morning (just!) SGL. I always have to have a comfortable chair to sit on as my back does not like soft sofas and armchairs. I do best on dining room chairs as long as they have a soft seat.
    Cacoethes: An irresistible urge to do something inadvisable
  • RubeeRubee Posts: 5,098
    That is beautiful LB .
  • star gaze lilystar gaze lily Posts: 12,718


    Very best wishes on your birthday RB xx
  • star gaze lilystar gaze lily Posts: 12,718
    Lovely poem LB, thank you for sharing 
  • Ladybird4Ladybird4 Third rock from the sunPosts: 26,532
    Ahhh I'm so glad you like it Ruby and SGL. I thought it was lovely too and just so true.
    Cacoethes: An irresistible urge to do something inadvisable
  • Muddle-UpMuddle-Up Posts: 14,553
    Morning, Rez 89, and all who sail in her.

    Here, for anyone interested, is the ORIGINAL poem.  Make your own judgement.


    The Glory of the Garden




    OUR England is a garden that is full of stately views,
    Of borders, beds and shrubberies and lawns and avenues,
    With statues on the terraces and peacocks strutting by;
    But the Glory of the Garden lies in more than meets the eye.

    For where the old thick laurels grow, along the thin red wall,
    You'll find the tool- and potting-sheds which are the heart of all
    The cold-frames and the hot-houses, the dung-pits and the tanks,
    The rollers, carts, and drain-pipes, with the barrows and the planks.

    And there you'll see the gardeners, the men and 'prentice boys
    Told off to do as they are bid and do it without noise ;
    For, except when seeds are planted and we shout to scare the birds,
    The Glory of the Garden it abideth not in words.

    And some can pot begonias and some can bud a rose,
    And some are hardly fit to trust with anything that grows ;
    But they can roll and trim the lawns and sift the sand and loam,
    For the Glory of the Garden occupieth all who come.

    Our England is a garden, and such gardens are not made
    By singing:-" Oh, how beautiful," and sitting in the shade
    While better men than we go out and start their working lives
    At grubbing weeds from gravel-paths with broken dinner-knives.

    There's not a pair of legs so thin, there's not a head so thick,
    There's not a hand so weak and white, nor yet a heart so sick
    But it can find some needful job that's crying to be done,
    For the Glory of the Garden glorifieth every one.

    Then seek your job with thankfulness and work till further orders,
    If it's only netting strawberries or killing slugs on borders;
    And when your back stops aching and your hands begin to harden,
    You will find yourself a partner In the Glory of the Garden.

    Oh, Adam was a gardener, and God who made him sees
    That half a proper gardener's work is done upon his knees,
    So when your work is finished, you can wash your hands and pray
    For the Glory of the Garden that it may not pass away!
    And the Glory of the Garden it shall never pass away 



    Aberdeenshire, NE Scotland 🌞  
    FIDDLESTICKS AND FLAPDOODLE!
  • pansyfacepansyface PEAK DISTRICT DerbyshirePosts: 15,748
    Hmm, a bit of a mixed bag was old Rudyard.😁

    That’s a lovely view. I wish we had a lovely view today. No compost has been shifted but a wall of drizzle is making its way down the valley and a heck of a wind is getting up.

    I am cuddling a hot water bottle for something to do.😕
    Apophthegm -  a big word for a small thought.
  • ChivetalkingChivetalking Leigh-on-seaPosts: 1,184
    Afternoon All, 
    LB That is a beautiful poem and encompasses all the delights of gardening with a little nod to the hard work involved 💕
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