Looks like a mixture of artichokes and roses to me.
Looks like a mixture of artichokes and roses to me.
I am the proof that poetry has to rhyme
even if ’twas brillig when the slithy toves do slime
I wandered lonely as a cloud
Hosts of golden daffodils were not a crowd
Half a league onward into the valey of death
How is this supposed to be poetry
When they are taking their last breath
There is a woman tending a grave
belonging to Mad Carew
Couldn’t she just tell us
does it have to rhyme in Katmandu
Once upon a midnight dreary
Writing poetry was making me weary
To be or not to be, that was the question
but I forgot the answer, anyone have a suggestion?
So do not stand at my blog and weep
I am not there but having a sleep
The tyger might be burning bright
But I cannot see him, it is not yet night
I wanted to write and rhyme so original
but the only word I found was aboriginal.
Gone are the days when I would take a walk along the river and the grand finale was to climb the path to the top, bringing me back to my village. I would take the steps one after the other, pause in between perhaps, look back and enjoy the view and then I would continue.
This was the hike that told me that I was no longer able. My walks of an hour or two dwindled to half an hour and I would take a rest on a bench on the way. I began to climb the steps sideways, gripping on the wooden supports, but I could still do it.
Our holidays in the Bernese Overland amongst the alps and peaks became dreams of another life that I lead just 20-30 years ago. My husband leading the way, me at the end and the two sons in between. We would laugh, enjoy, and make a stop for lunch: usually something cold or on the adventurous days we might light a small fire and roast our cervelat (the Swiss sausage). Now memories of another life.
I never thought I would grow old, be less fit, thought that life would continue as ever. Now I look at the photos, see the local paths from a distance in my wheelchair and wonder how it all happened.
There is always hope of a good day when the clouds go to one side and allow a patch of blue. There is a cool breeze outside, but that suits me. Yesterday was the great washing of the bed linen, at least half of it and today will be the great ironing of the duvet and cushion covers and then I can forget it all until the next time.
Are these really balloon flowers or just so called bell flowers? I had my eye on this bud yesterday waiting for it to explode but had other things to do and the next time I had a look it had opened but did not seem to make an explosive noise whilst opening.
In the meanwhile my climbing rose decied to open up a few more buds and there are still a couple of bunches to come. I am glad, because the first arrivals did not do so well due to rainy days. Now it is ideal weather.
Yesterday I was on the road again, not very far, but brought Mr. Swiss to his doc to pick up some tablets. He is now getting used to the idea of his new walker and it is much better for him. I stayed in the car whilst he went around the corner to the surgery and took a photo of the building opposite from the car seat for lack of something else to do I suppose. I should really make an effort of going places with my camera and take a wheelie, but at the moment I am too lazy.
Today I am off for a week-end shopping tour in the afternoon. I constructed the list at 4.40 a.m. whilst still hugging the bed as I was awake and had nothing better to do, but went back to sleep afterwards. I also noticed some photos from my No. 2 son’s holiday on the computer in Brittany. Really beautiful scenes and it looks like a wonderful place for a holiday: sun, blue skies and sea and lovely countryside. Sometimes I wish I was active again to see such places and this all happened in the early morning hours.
The sun has just arrived and it is time for me to move on.
A fly is buzzing around whilst I am writing and is most annoying. It is the only one here that dared to cross the line, although I have my mint plant on the table to keep them away. I will now move on to do better things that sit at the computer. Have a good day and remember tomorrow will be week-end: two free days to do what you want to, unless you happen to have a job that means you must work.
I am off, see you around later
Je gratte, donc je suis
In 2016, aged 48, I suffered a stroke. Now I'm coming through the other side.
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