Simply not ready yet for autumn leaves
One of my sons left this comb in the bathroom this morning and it reminded me of when my little sister had a tortoise called tabitha, this was in the 70,s when no one questioned whether it was right or wrong to keep such a creature in an english garden, my father half buried a small metal barrel in the garden, the half that was above ground he covered with a thick layer of insulating earth and the whole barrel was stuffed with straw, this was where tabitha hibernated, one spring as my father was cutting the grass for the first time of the year, disaster struck, with a horrible thud the lawnmower hit an obstruction, tabitha had woken earlier than expected and was hiding in the long grass, mortified my father took her inside and cleaned the cut she had sustained to her shell, after various experiments, he made a patch for her shell with modelling clay, he removed this every few days and cleaned the cut with disinfectant until a s***p of new shell formed and the clay patch could be discarded. she seemed to make a full recovery until one day we could not find her, we searched under hedges and in piles of leaves but she was nowhere to be found, and that we thought was the end of the story, until a few weeks later my father heard a story of a farmer a few miles away finding a tortoise in his garden, so he set off to find out if it could possibly be tabitha, she was easily identified by the scar on her shell, so we brought her home, after her adventure she did not wander again and seemed satisfied to spend the rest of her summers clearing the dandelions from the lawn.
Making some little paper “frames” for @creativelysquared and @emilieslittlelamb theme this week “in the frame” these are in celebration of the seven chronicles of narnia that my mother read to me one after the other throughout my childhood, you may have noticed that my name comes from that of the princess in the third book, these stories not only encouraged my already overactive imagination but left me with a life long love of reading
F is for fish fingers....
here’s one for you brits....
a trout is swimming down a river when he comes across two fish he has never seen before “hello” he says, “what kind of fish are you?”.
the younger of the fish goes to answer him but before he can speak the older one interrupts “don’t tell him pike”....
#ru_letterf #aravishand #ru_letterf
What a bitter sweet month september is, as the fruit fattens on the trees and hedgerows and we wake to the first morning mists, the little ones must put away the endless barefoot summer days and gather their pencils for the nervous return to school.
by now, in summers past, i would have taken my little boys shopping for new shoes, black with velcro fasteners, i would rather have bought them lace-ups so that they must learn to fasten them, but the teachers don’t have time to help 30 little ones on and off with shoes for pe. i have ironed on reinforcing to the knees of several little pairs of grey trousers, and shortened and hemmed last years trousers into shorts. i buy one new sweatshirt embroidered with the school logo, and turn and stitch the frayed cuffs of the others. no need for new pencil cases and geometry sets every year, or a special lunch box, but i buy them each a new school bag and new felt pens, pe kit will last, the oldest boy gets new gym shoes the others are passed down the line. the boys only grumble for a while about my make do and mend attitude, they soon discover that life is still sweet even without a power rangers lunch box, when lunch is eaten, the shamefully plain lunchbox is soon forgotten as they chase their friends around the playing field, throwing off their sweatshirts in the late summer sun. however smartly they started the day, they still come home muddy, hungry and tired.
one of my boys still gets ready for school as september approaches, but now, as well as gathering his pencils and pens, he is preparing his classroom and planning what lessons to give 30 nervous little ones. @creativelysquared @paperandpeony #cs_inbloom
There’s something magical coming up in the garden
We took the boat to santander, we rode the bike into the hold of the ferry from a damp drizzly portsmouth dock, and rode out into the blinding spanish sunshine. it is a long crossing, 24 hours, you can only occupy yourself with sleeping for about eight of those hours, we watched the “entertainment” we ate and drank, we read, in a cabin so small that one of you must be in the bed in order for the other to have the space to undress, and we also spent long hours at the prow of the boat looking aimlessly out to sea.
it is well known that dolphins will swim alongside boats, racing them, playing in their bow-wave and generally having fun, and as we entered the warmer water people in the prow salon started to exclaim, “oh look, how wonderful”, i could see nothing, “what” i asked “dolphins, see they are swimming with the ship”, i scanned the waters, nothing!! “where, where?” i asked, soon everyone was pointing and shouting “there, why cant you see” and i simply couldnt, the water stayed stubbornly empty, soon people were getting frustrated with me “you need glasses” the woman beside me snapped, and then a collective sigh, they were gone, somehow i had missed the best entertainment of the crossing.
s still teases me, “they were waving” he says “they were posing for photographs” but to me they were only ever a story. #ru_letter_d