Penelope wrote:I thanks, I have enjoyed both of these, even though I'm not sure what storm windows are.

Today we had a day out, just OH and I and we have been to Hardwick Hall, an Elizabethan manor house in Derbyshire. Bess of Hardwick was the lady who didn't seem to ever stop building. She had four husbands, all of whom she outlived, even though the first one tried to poison her. She was very astute and became the wealthiest woman in England, and a friend of Elizabeth I. She lived to a the great age, for the time, of 81.

My grandma has something in common with Bess of Hardwick - she also had four husbands and outlived them all .. the first one did not try to poison her but he did run off and leave her with 2 little kids in post-war Britain, so maybe she should have poisoned him!! She was astute in her own way but not at all wealthy, so the similarity ends there, she did have some longevity though, she lived to 90.

How to describe storm windows? I would say they are externally mounted, heavy windows that provide protection for your regular windows and extra protection for your house against the elements. They don't open so you only put them up temporarily when storms are expected, they really function like shutters except they are see-through!

Penelope wrote:I thanks, I have enjoyed both of these, even though I'm not sure what storm windows are.

Here is a link so you can see what storm windows are - at least the traditional style.

http://smithrestorationsash.com/woodstormwindows.html

Thankyou giselle and saffron. I was interested in those storm windows because they were sash-windows, which are unusual now. Our house has sash windows which rattle when it's windy. Norman seems to like repairing the sash mechanism of weights and pulleys.


When we were in Derbyshire yesterday we also found 'Beth's Poetry Trail'. Which one can follow in a walk around the town of Belper. The walk has been installed in memory of the lady who founded two Poetry Societies in the town. I thought it might please you to see how it is presented and the poets represented.

Beth's Poetry Trail

Because she loved poetry,
Knew what it could offer
In so many parts of life,
She wanted to share that love and knowledge
With any who would accept her gift.
Now we, who loved her,
Want to pass on that offering
To you.

Stay for a moment -
Read and be enriched
By what poems can give you -
Joy, courage, solace, insight, laughter -
Beth's trail is for you.

http://www.bethspoetrytrail.co.uk/main.html

A special world for you and me
A special bond one cannot see
It wraps us up in its cocoon
And holds us fiercely in its womb.

Its fingers spread like fine spun gold
Gently nestling us to the fold
Like silken thread it holds us fast
Bonds like this are meant to last.

And though at times a thread may break
A new one forms in its wake
To bind us closer and keep us strong
In a special world, where we belong.

- Sheelagh Lennon -

I heard this poem today and thought of my daughter, who has spent her summer in the fields growing tomatoes at a small organic farm -

Ode To Tomatoes
by Pablo Neruda

The street
filled with tomatoes,
midday,
summer,
light is
halved
like
a
tomato,
its juice
runs
through the streets.
In December,
unabated,
the tomato
invades
the kitchen,
it enters at lunchtime,
takes
its ease
on countertops,
among glasses,
butter dishes,
blue saltcellars.
It sheds
its own light,
benign majesty.
Unfortunately, we must
murder it:
the knife
sinks
into living flesh,
red
viscera
a cool
sun,
profound,
inexhaustible,
populates the salads
of Chile,
happily, it is wed
to the clear onion,
and to celebrate the union
we
pour
oil,
essential
child of the olive,
onto its halved hemispheres,
pepper
adds
its fragrance,
salt, its magnetism;
it is the wedding
of the day,
parsley
hoists
its flag,
potatoes
bubble vigorously,
the aroma
of the roast
knocks
at the door,
it's time!
come on!
and, on
the table, at the midpoint
of summer,
the tomato,
star of earth, recurrent
and fertile
star,
displays
its convolutions,
its canals,
its remarkable amplitude
and abundance,
no pit,
no husk,
no leaves or thorns,
the tomato offers
its gift
of fiery color
and cool completeness.

Saffron that poem is so unusual, but isn't it brilliant? Thanks.

Penelope wrote:Saffron that poem is so unusual, but isn't it brilliant? Thanks.

Ya, I really like it. I do generally like Pablo Neruda's poetry.

This one probably seems silly to you all, but it found its way into my mind the other day, and won't leave......

The Man Who Wasn't There

Last night while going up the stair,
I met a man who wasn't there.
He wasn't there again today,
Oh how I wish he'd go away.

-William Hughes Mearns

Cattleman, it isn't silly. But this is the poem my godmother gave to me as an antidote:-

'A' stands for Angel with shining white wings,
Who drives away shadows and frightening things,
So I'm never afraid when it's dark on the stairs,
Or think that the shadows are goblins or bears,
For I know there's and angel who waits at the bend
To see that I'm safe till I get to the end.

I learned early to replace a negative thought with a positive one.

Saffron wrote:I heard this poem today and thought of my daughter, who has spent her summer in the fields growing tomatoes at a small organic farm -

Ode To Tomatoes
by Pablo Neruda

Thanks for the tomato poem, tomatoes are one of my favourite foods and nice that you have a personal 'connection' to tomatoes through your daughter. I particularly liked the line about 'murdering the tomato' .. I admit to having hesitated once or twice before I cut a tomato because I think it is too perfect to be subjected to the knife! I know this is a little crazy but it does seem a shame to destroy perfection, even if you really want to eat the tomato. And Neruda seems to infuse his poems with passion, even poems about the commonplace.