August is fast running out, back to school, thoughts of Hallowee’n so can Christmas be far behind. I expect like me you are feeling despondent at the moment- what on earth, literally, is yet to come. Fires and floods and I’m at a loss to comment on the news and pictures from Afghanistan. It’s chilling, it’s like the powers of darkness are descending to envelop us all but some a lot more than others. Here we have the covid virus rampaging, for the first time it has visited the homes of dear friends, please encourage others to get the injection and afford themselves and everyone else some reduced risk of dealing with this pesky infection. News from Candy Devine in Brisbane underlines the spread in Australia and there is now news of street riots as the public protest against restrictions.
“The situation in New South Wales is bad with the Delta Virus running rampant. Given the density of Sydney’s population and the lifestyle you can imagine what it’s like but it has found its way round the entire state including the outback area which makes it more of a worry. Melbourne has been hit again but they seem to be handling it better. The state borders have been closed and there s a police presence at all entry points. There are concerns about the indigenous community and mental illness is on the rise. I feel the world will never be the same after this pandemic.”
Ending on an uplifting note Candy adds: “it’s a beautiful day here and I can hear a kookburra in the distance. Think I’ll put on a Louis Stewart record and chill for an hour.”
The longer this goes on the more I agree that life will never be the same but we must live in hope even when the world is crowding in with all the terrible pressures people are going through whether it’s here, in Australia, America, Haiti or Afganistan . The thousands at the airport in Kabul must be living in hell. Where do they get water, where do they get food, there are no toilets, there must be women about to have their baby and men unable to find their families in the throng. It’s very difficult to imagine what each individual is going through. To risk your life clinging to a moving air plane presumably thinking you could hang on until it climbs into the clouds and away to safety, is just awful.
And who do we turn to? Answers on a post card.
PARALYMPICS
The Paralympics begin on Tuesday although you wouldn’t know. Won’t it be interesting to see the coverage, not a lot of it compared to the Olympics of a few weeks ago. These brave and talented men and women have every right to be disgruntled with the television companies and being treated like less important sports people tucked away on TV Channel 4 and More 4. RTE seem to honour the games in a much fuller way.
ON MOMENT IN TIME
I felt like waxing lyrical recently sitting in a field in Donegal one morning this month, it remains vivid in my mind.
The only sound has been a bumble bee browsing the purple clover, a sizeable miracle flying past on his way to who knows where. The sky is the colour of speedwell, the sun is gaining strength and the wonders of nature are all around, all it takes is time to sit and observe. A robin chirps his somewhat plaintive song, a foretaste of autumn which is still to come but the waiting isn’t long.
Questions.
If the bee can’t find purple clover will he make do with white? Does he ever mix the two? Why is there a dandelion clock growing beside a dandelion in full, vibrant yellow flower both from the same root system? And where did the swarm of menacing flying ants come from so suddenly?
Far away across the bay a man begins hammering a nail into wood, my favourite sound in the world, something to do with childhood I suppose. My memory goes back to Jack the gardener making frames to grow carrots and parsnips: those were the happiest of days for a girl of seven. Jack has long gone but his teaching of planting and growing remains with this now grown child. I wonder what the man is building in the village across the bay? The rhythm would indicate something more substantial than wooden frames. Then he stops.
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No other sound not even the wind stirring the grass or the waves caressing the rocks at the bottom of the hill and across the lane. This place can be a torment of gales and big seas but not today. Today all is calm but still too early for children shrieking with delight as they run into the tide making ripples on the smooth surface.
Has the world stopped turning?
No, suddenly the reassuring buzz of a bluebottle like the demented engine of a young man’s fast car. It rests on the dog daisy beside me, explores the yellow centre with a surprising long tongue, his iridescent green back a thing of beauty. Lost in the harebells and heather. Nothing of interest obviously as, like a hovercraft he rises, pauses and disappears off to another date with destiny. My interest is taken with a hover fly exploring a dandelion. It’s all happening!
Four fields away over the rise of the meadow the white horse, up to his knees in buttercups, blows down his nostrils with a shake of his head. This disturbs two stone chats who rise up and disappear over the hill.
Looking down into the grass the early morning sunlight is always a joy. As it hits the dewdrops there’s a carpet of twinkling lights, silver and gold glistening and gleaming or is it tiny insects their shiny backs reflecting the warm sun’s rays. Their names equally beautiful, the stonefly, lacewing, spring tail, earwig and at the bottom of the scale of beauty, the terrible tick! I’m lucky, an elegant long legged harvestman strolls by and two brown butterflies perform what I imagine is a mating dance, flirting and kissing in their silent courtship.
I look out to sea to check if the mermaids are looking into their mirrors as they preen and primp preparing for the day ahead, arranging their seaweed hair to stream out behind them as they swim beneath the surface. Sure enough right in the middle of the bay the water is a little choppy and the sun reflects in each looking glass so the sea sparkles with lights.
Someone once said it’s a wonderful world but sitting on an outcrop of stone in a field in Donegal breakfasting on brown bread and banana is more wondrous than anything.
The mermaids have dived down and the water has calmed, perfect for the dolphins who might well come and play later today, cavorting close to the shore smooth bodies rich and shining. I imagine I can hear them laughing or is it the three children who have just arrived on the far beach and in the still air the sound of their happiness is welcome as it creeps up the hill.
Then It’s Gone,
They’ve had enough, sandcastle building mutes their giggles and takes their attention. Now all is silent again, peaceful except for the bees, the word has gone out, purple clover here, come and hoover up the delicious nectar friends, enough for all.
It was a glorious day.
It’s been a long hard road with Covid and climate change. Frightening. Hard to relax and look forward, it really is one day at a time if you can manage it. It’s important not to show concerns and worry in front of small children. To some degree they will know something is happening but they must keep positive, after all the future is theirs and they will deal with it. I think it’s a shame we don’t listen to young people more, allow them to experiment, to follow their instincts. I remember once when the door of my car jammed my son, then about 12, said he’d fix it. Oh no, you might make it worse, leave it till dad comes home, was my attitude. “I’ll fix it mum, trust me.” I did and sure enough he got out a screwdriver and worked away for a few minutes and the job was done never to stick again. We were both delighted and I have trusted him ever since. I employed the same trust in my daughter, she will tackle anything, she’s even able to fix my wayward iPhone and I pad when they go on the blink. My hope is that the younger generation will take this world in hand and make it work – with our help.
I hope also they will take time to sit in on a stone in a field where they can listen and watch and let nature calm them and give them hope.
Please God, lessen the awful pain in the world.