Canada

This made me laugh!

As we await the latest heresy from the Great Orange Leader, I came across this revised map. It's too good not to share.

Jigsaw

 

Jigsaw

This is another small wooden jigsaw of oddly shaped pieces. It’s called ‘Summer Badgers’ by Lucy Grossmith, and has eighty-three pieces. Unlike other jigsaws, the pieces do not fit closely together.

It was fiddly, but fun to do. I have some ‘normal’ jigsaws to do one of these days. Not yet, though, as I need the dining room table for Sunday lunch.

I can’t lay out a jigsaw anywhere that the cats might access, as they are attracted to them and will stretch across them, even as I attempt to put the pieces together.

Why do we do jigsaws? What’s the point? I know some people frame them, but I’ve never been inclined to do that. I suppose it’s a challenge, a way of bringing order out of chaos. My time would be more usefully occupied in domestic chores, but where’s the fun in those? Move the dust around and it will settle somewhere else. Mop up the spatters and someone will spill something more.

I know there are badger setts in the woods, but have never discovered them, or perhaps I just haven’t recognised them. Occasionally, I see a dead badger on the side of the road – always a sad sight – but haven’t seen a live badger for an exceptionally long time.

In memoriam

 

In memoriam

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

A yellow ribbon signifies support for, and recognition of, missing children, suicide prevention, and military troops among other causes. Recently it has been used in Israel as a symbol of their hostages.

It was also used by Americans for the same reason during the 1979 Iran hostage crisis. In the 1990-1991 Gulf War, the yellow ribbon was once more used to show support, and hope for the safe return of troops.

The use of the yellow ribbon traces its origins back to the 17^th century, when the soldiers of Oliver Cromwell’s Puritan army wore yellow sashes. These made it easier to identify allies on the battlefield.

April 9^th is National Yellow Ribbon Day in the USA for all Americans to recognise and venerate military personnel and their families.

 

The following short story is one I wrote a few years ago.

They had painted the house the year their son joined the army. He had helped them during his final leave before embarkation. The colour was not quite what they had intended, and they had wanted to repaint it immediately, but he had persuaded them to wait.

‘We’ll do it next time I’m home,’ he said, and they had agreed. Instead, they had tied yellow ribbons round the trees in the front garden, constant reminders, should they need them, of his continued absence.

On the day they were informed that he was missing in action, believed killed, they went out and tied fresh yellow ribbons to the trees. Until they had a body to bury, they would not believe that their boy was gone, and so, when the ribbons tattered and frayed into fine filaments, they replaced them proudly and with loving care.

Years passed, and they reluctantly began to accept that their son might never return. The fabric of the building was deteriorating, and it seemed as if it waited, heartsore like them, for the young man’s return. To refurbish it would feel like a betrayal and somehow it felt fitting that the house should shrink into itself, just as they were doing.

Quietly, uncomplainingly, they advanced into old age, and as the paintwork peeled, so their eyes grew dim until one day, peacefully, they closed for the final time and saw no more. The house crumbled into disrepair, but the trees remained, remnants of yellow satin grown into their bark, a permanent memorial to a young life lost, and to undiminished love and hope.

Spring forward!

 

Spring forward!

Our clocks went forward at 1:00 am on Sunday 30^th March, according to Gov.UK. Some said the time change would occur at 2:00 am.

The following day is often peppered with comments like, ‘This time yesterday it was three ‘clock and now it’s four o’clock. It does feel strange.’

Others might say, ‘Do we gain an hour or lose one?’ Well, neither – there are still twenty-four hours in a day; we’ve just rearranged our observation of them. If we’re Jewish or Muslim, we might tinker round the edges a little so that religious observance and prayers are not too disruptive to daily life.

Daylight Saving Time (DST) was first considered, rather jocularly, by Benjamin Franklin in 1784, but in 1907 a British builder began advocating for a method of using the longer summer daylight hours more effectively. His suggestion was overruled by Parliament in 1908.

In the same year, forward-thinking Port Arthur in Ontario adopted DST, but the practice was not implemented on a large scale until Germany decided to economise on coal usage in 1916 during the First World War. Most of the Allies followed suit.

At present, about two thirds of the world do not embrace DST. The countries that do are mainly in Europe, the USA, Canada, and parts of Australasia. In the USA, exceptions to Daylight Saving Time are American Samoa, Guam, Northern Mariana Islands, Puerto Rico, the Virgin Islands, Hawaii, and most of Arizona, apart from the Navajo people.

So, just one third of the world goes through the six-monthly alteration of clocks and the temporary confusion they create. One year, when our children were very young, Gillian, the eldest, had been invited to a birthday party. She arrived an hour early! Her absent-minded parents had simply not realised that the clocks were changing.

Today, of course, most people don’t even have to think about winding forward or back – computers, ovens, watches, iPads, ‘phones, do it automatically. I don’t know if modern cars do, but our cars aren’t and don’t, so we spend half the year adding or subtracting an hour from the display we see, depending on whether or not we remembered, or bothered, to adjust the clock ‘last time.’

So, officially, it’s summer. I hope the weather realises and gives us some pleasant, sunny, warm (but not too warm!) days.

Stonehenge

 

Stonehenge

                         Changing the clocks at Stonehenge

Jonquil, Daffodil or Narcissus?

 

Jonquil, Daffodil or Narcissus?

The common botanical name for all these lovely spring flowers is Narcissus.

Daffodils may be perfumed, but their scent is delicate and, to my nose, green. They have one flower per stem. They come in many shades, from white, through yellow to peach and pink. Often their trumpets are a brighter colour.

Jonquils are strongly perfumed and carry many flowers on each stem. They are seen in all shades of yellow and the trumpets, or corona, are shorter than in daffodils, but, like them, contrast with the outer petals.

Although daffodils and jonquils are both classified as narcissus, they are different species. Nonetheless, they will probably always be referred to as ‘daffodils,’ glorious harbingers of spring.

 I noticed a bent stem of jonquils in the garden and brought it into the house. It smelt wonderful. My photographic skills do not do it justice, and there is no way of capturing the scent, but I think it is beautiful. 

Nose job

 

Nose job

Sailing nose. 

                                What does that phrase mean to you? A nose job, or rhinoplasty, to give it its official name, is a surgical procedure to reshape the bone and cartilage, often undertaken to improve its appearance. Sometimes, it’s carried out to correct breathing problems.

 My husband and son have both had the procedure, for health reasons, following sports injuries. I don’t remember Barry having a huge dressing on his nose, though I suppose he must have, but I do remember Gareth’s cast or splint or whatever it was called. I also remember that one of the dogs chewed it up, obviously not while it was on his face. The surgeon was not entirely delighted, but did see the funny side of it, as a sort of variation of ‘the dog ate my homework.’ Gareth was a young teenager at the time.

Barry had a minor nose job – that is a minor operation on his nose - at the beginning of January to excise a ‘rodent ulcer,’ known as a basal cell carcinoma. When the results were published, he was told that he would have to return at a later date to have another ‘excavation’ (my word, not the surgeon’s)

He waited at the hospital for a couple of hours as a day patient before he was seen. The procedure took an hour and he arrived home  later. He has to go back in four weeks to see the consultant again. It’s his own fault for being so fair-skinned!

The dogs were alert all afternoon, pricking up their ears every time they heard, 'Motion detected on the drive.' 

When Barry eventually arrived, they were very excited, greeted him warmly and then fell asleep, all the tension having exhausted them. 

Is he really here? He's been away a long time.

He is here! At last!

Can we climb over?

We have never encouraged our dogs to jump over gates in the house, though they could easily do so. The baby gates allow visitors to see them and them to see visitors without incident. They soon calm down - visitors and dogs.