Happy national poetry day

This one always reminds me of my childhood days living with Granny Gower by the sea

A garden by the sea

I KNOW a little garden-close,
Set thick with lily and red rose,
Where I would wander if I might
From dewy morn to dewy night,
And have one with me wandering.

And though within it no birds sing,
And though no pillared house is there,
And though the apple-boughs are bare
Of fruit and blossom, would to God
Her feet upon the green grass trod,
And I beheld them as before.

There comes a murmur from the shore,
And in the close two fair streams are,
Drawn from the purple hills afar,
Drawn down unto the restless sea:
Dark hills whose heath-bloom feeds no bee,
Dark shore no ship has ever seen,
Tormented by the billows green

Whose murmur comes unceasingly
Unto the place for which I cry.
For which I cry both day and night,
For which I let slip all delight,
Whereby I grow both deaf and blind,
Careless to win, unskilled to find,
And quick to lose what all men seek.

Yet tottering as I am and weak,
Still have I left a little breath
To seek within the jaws of death
An entrance to that happy place,
To seek the unforgotten face,
Once seen, once kissed, once reft from me
Anigh the murmuring of the sea.

William Morris

If you live in Southern England it is quite possible that the dragonflies you see have travelled at a speed of 20 miles an hour, all the way from Africa. Many of these flighty flying dragons, choose to rest on the pond at our home for waifs and strays.  

      The ‘flying dragon’ prefers clean, unpolluted water in a sunny spot and they seem to like the pile of logs we have compiled for little visitors. They also enjoy a quick sunbathing session on the lily pads that float above the pondweed. And as our garden is home to hundreds of birds, the long grasses and plants around the pond are a great escape from predators!

       It is late in the year now, and autumn is upon us and still there are many jobs in our garden that need seeing to before the weather changes.

       Once again, our home for waifs and strays is a hive of activity with the harvesting of crops still ongoing. The hen houses need re-felting before the rainy season and the summer house most certainly needs a long awaited coat of paint. I almost forgot the grapes, they are almost ready for picking and already taste delicious! I’m not quite sure what we will do with them all but I nothing will go to waste.

       I'm always sorry to see the end of summer but each season brings something different and often exciting. But for now, I shall make the most of sitting by the pond with a cup of sweet tea, watching the flying dragons before they leave.

‘I don’t want to eat snails,’ said Hywel Hog, ‘I’m a vegetarian!’

      ‘You must eat up,’ said Mrs Erinaceus (this is Latin for hedgehog), ‘before the winter comes.’

       Hywel Hog moaned and groaned just like all children when they don’t want to eat their food.

       ‘Eat! Eat! Eat!’ he said, playing with a snail that was put in front of him. ‘But I don’t like snails!’

       ‘All hoglets eat snails,’ his mother replied. ‘Now eat up!’

       ‘I’m a vegetarian,’ said Hywel Hog and pushed the snail away.

       Now Mrs Erinaceus knew that unless Hywel Hog ate his food, he wouldn’t survive until the spring. She was a very worried mother.

       But the young hoglet would not eat his food and he got thinner and thinner. It was almost time to hibernate and Mrs. Erinaceus knew that her young son would die if he didn’t eat soon. She tried everything she could think of, worms, beetles and slugs, but nothing worked. Hywel Hog refused everything that contained meat.

        ‘I’m a vegetarian,’ he kept saying, over and over again. ‘I don’t want anything to have to die for me!’

        Although Mrs Erinaceus thought that this was a very sweet thing for her son to say, it wasn’t helping matters. The days became colder and colder and Hywel Hog got thinner and thinner. Then one evening, a very strange thing happened.

         They were wondering about in the garden of the home for waifs and strays, when the door of the house opened and someone came out. Young Hywel Hog and his mother watched from the shadows as the lady put down a dish of something that smelt delicious. They watched closely, as she went back into the house and closed the door.

          ‘You stay here,’ said Mrs Erinaceus, ‘while I see if it is safe.’ And she scurried across the yard to where the delicious smell was coming from. Her little heart raced and she prayed that the food would be suitable for Hywel Hog.

           ‘Come,’ she called softly to her son, ‘I think you will like it! It doesn’t smell like meat.’

           Little Hywel Hog hurried over to his mother and sniffed at the food in front of him.

           ‘It’s delicious!’ he said excitedly and gobbled it all down. Mrs Erinaceus sighed a huge relief.

           Every night they went to the yard and waited for the door to open and the food to be left. And every night until it was time to hibernate, the young hoglet gobbled it all up.They never once saw the lady smiling at them from the kitchen window.

‘Don’t eat me,’ begged the ladybird , ‘I taste awful and you will be sick!’

     ‘I don’t believe you,’ said the big bad bird. ‘I’m going to get you!’ And the hungry bird hopped closer and closer to the tiny, red and black ladybird.

     ‘But why would you want to eat me?’ said the ladybird, scurrying up a stem of a very tall flower. Her tiny heart beat like a drum. ‘I’m a sort of a bird too. I have wings, just like you and I can fly!’

     The big bad bird stopped for a moment and frowned. ‘But you’re a beetle not a bird!’ he said, ‘and birds eat beetles.’

      The little ladybird had to think fast or the bird would eat her. She didn’t want him to follow her home as her babies were sleeping in their beds. She thought about her babies and smiled. Someone once told her that they looked like baby alligators, with their long bodies and bumpy skin and legs that protrude from their bodies. That was a cheeky thing to say, she thought, calling her babies names.

        ‘I’m coming!’ shouted the angry bird!’ and he sat at the end of the stem, waiting to eat her.

        The ladybird’s heart beat so fast, she thought it would burst. Then she had an idea.

         As the bird opened his beak to eat her, he had a terrible shock. The ladybird released a horrid, smelly liquid from her legs that sent the big bad bird flying. He was also sick.

        ‘That will teach you to mess with me,’ said the ladybird. ‘I told you I taste awful. I can smell awful too!’ Then she flew back to her home and her babies.

     I often think about the animals that scurry through our garden at this late hour, the hedgehogs, polecats, foxes (lovely animals, despite being a relative of the wolf and not very chicken friendly!) shrews and rats ugh! And of course the mice!

    With less competition at night, the bat with its leathery wings, is a frequent visitor to our garden and contrary to belief, the bat is not blind. In fact, bats often have better eye sight than humans.

     There’s an owl that rests occasionally in the tree by the pond. With her heart shaped face, she has her eyes on shrews with their voracious appetite. And oops I mustn’t forget the frogs and the newts all preparing to leave the safety of the pond and following behind will be the toads, with their warty skin and squat bodies.

     Sleep well all of you!