Little Treasures

 

 

    Here in the Canary Islands, potatoes play a huge part of the everyday diet. Due to high tourism and local love for these little treasures, the island’s locally produced supply can’t keep up with the demand. 

     Therefore, 80-90% of this versatile vegetable, the King Edward variety to be exact, is supplied from Kent, England. Unfortunately, imports have had to be suspended because of a plague of the Colorado beetle having been found recently. 

     Meaning, that to a nation of spud lovers there is now a shortage, caused by a potato rush. Of course, these greedy profiteers have been buying in bulk, which has now led to supermarkets and wholesalers limiting purchases.

     Hopefully, new trade deals will be made and new imports will begin soon, but this quote from Louisa May Alcott says it all, ‘Money is the root of all evil, and yet it is such a useful root that we cannot get on without it any more than we can without potatoes.’

 

 

 

    

Magical Moments

  

    When I lived in Scotland, for many years I worked in Edinburgh. For me, it was anything from a twenty to fifty-minute commute each way by train, to earn my daily bread. By car, hmm, how long is a piece of string?

     Yes, it could be quite a drudge to get to and from work. However, in the months of August and September each year, the daily trip never seemed so bad. That was because, the Edinburgh Festival which attracts huge crowds to the city, enlivened the streets and I found being there exhilarating.

 

     The city has celebrated this International Festival since 1947 and draws in excess of 4 million visitors to the city each year. There is something for everyone there, whether you’re interested in films, books, art, culture, or just want to tap your toes to the sounds of an army pipe band at the Tattoo, it’s the place to be.

    

No, I can’t be there this year but I can trawl through some old photographs to relive the magical moments.

Hemingway’s Way With Words

 

 

    I’m a lover of Hemingway’s work, and, A Farewell to Arms, plays a part of the story in my book, No Kissing Required. This poem of his I’m featuring today, I find kind of sexy. The man most definitely had a way with words. 

 

Oily Weather

The sea desires deep hulls,

It swells and rolls.

The screw churns a throb,

Driving throbbing progressing.

The sea rolls with love,

Surging, caressing.

Undulating its great loving belly,

The sea is big and old.

Throbbing ships scorn it.

Ernest Hemingway  (Stories and Ten Poems, 1923)

 

Pied Beauty, a Poets Thanks

     

      I love colors, the brighter they are the better. Anything that has bold color combinations, from lipsticks to clothes. I can't walk by without admiring.

    These  all of course depend on a little human intervention. However, I adore the nature that surrounds us. It's ever giving contrast of colors, in the way of wildlife, our skies and seas. They all give us variants of color that change without notice, in a blink of an eye.

    I found a sonnet by the poet, Gerard Manly Hopkins, which I want to share with you today on the anniversary of his birth.

    He is believed to be thanking and praising God for the creation of the world Gerard lived in. Whatever any one of us believes in, is up to us as individual humans. But, it is nice if we can stop to admire the beauty and be thankful for what is around us, in any which way we can and if we can. 

    Today I'm writing about the beauty I have experienced and I'm featuring some photos, in my way of thanks.

    Have a great weekend people.

Pied Beauty

Glory be to God for dappled things

For skied of couple color as a brinded cow

For rose-moles all the stipple upon trout that swim

Fresh-fire coal chestnut-fall, finches' wings

Landscape plotted and pierced, fold, fallow and plough

And all trades, their gear and tackle and trim.

All things counter, original, spare, strange

Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)

With swift, slow, sweet, sour, adazzle, dim

Her father's-forth whose beauty is past change

Praise him.

                              Gerard Manley Hopkins 

                              (28 July 1844-8 June 1889)

A Queen's Poetic Retreat

    

   July 24th 1567, following a year of imprisonment in Loch Leven Castle in Perth and Kinross, Mary Queen of Scots was forced to abdicate. 

    Her time as queen was tumultuous, and she escaped from the reality and skullduggery that surrounded her by writing poetry.

     Today I've included a short sonnet of hers, believed to have been written about the Earl of Bothwell to whom she later married. A marriage that would throw her life into further turmoil.  

    Please enjoy and thanks for visiting my blog today.  

Lord, grant your mercy unto me:

Teach me some way that he may know

My love for him is not an empty show

But purest tenderness an constancy

For does he not, alas, ev'n now possess

This body and this heart which would not flee

Discord, dishonour, nor uncertainty,

Nor family hurt, nor evil's worst distress.

For his sake, I value all my friends as dust

And in my enemies I seek to place my trust,

For him, my concience and good name to chance I've cast;

I would renounce the worls, were it his whim:

I'd gladly die if it should profit him,

What more is there to prove my love steadfast.

Mary Queen of Scots (8 December 1542-8 Feburary 1587)

Giant Leap for Mankind

      

   

 

       OMG, where do the years go? Fifty-four years ago, Apollo 11 landed on the moon. I can remember watching, Neil Armstrong taking one step for man and one giant leap for mankind. (Yes, I am that old, and remember a lady never discloses her age.)

 

   My mother and I watched the scratchy black-and-white transmission of this historical moment. Yes, I know that many believe that it never happened. However, this gal believes it did, and I wanted today to relive that short time I felt was special in my life. 

 

    Another historical event that happened on that date was that UK TV transmitted all night. This was also a momentous moment for the UK. 

 

   While I give some further thought to that day, I've included a poem by US poet, Emily Dickinson called, The Moon. Hoping you enjoy.

The moon was but a chin of gold

A night or two ago,

And now she turns her perfect face

Upon the world below.

 

Her forehead is of amplest blonde;

Her cheek like beryl stone;

Her eye unto the summer dew

The likest I have known. 

 

Her lips of amber never part;

But what must be the smile

Upon her friend she could bestow

Were such her silver will!

And what a privilege to be

But the remotest star!

For certainly her way might pass

Beside your twinkling door.

Her bonnet is the firmament,

The universe her shoe, 

The stars the trinkets at her belt,

Her dimities of blue.

 Emily Dickinson 1830-1886

Taking Time to Commemorate

 

    I have been a great admirer of the author, Ernest Hemingway, since high school and since my early teens I have read the book, For Whom the Bell Tolls, numerous times.

   Like many great authors of that time, Hemingway took part in the Spanish civil war, spreading propaganda for the Republican cause, aided by the Russian army.

  He was not the only author who joined the fight against the Nationalist army, led by Fransisco Franco Bahamonde. UK writer, W.H. Auden and U.S. writer, Malcolm Cowley were amongst the many who took to arms. 

   While I haven't read much of their work, I have read, Homage to Catalonia, by the British Indian author, George Orwell. Orwell's book is an account of his service in the Republican Army. Like the Hemingway book, it is a timeless read, considering the war started eighty–seven years ago. Similar to the Hemingway book it was also censored by the Franco regime.

    The Canary Islands, and the island of Tenerife in particular play a part in this piece of history, that many Spaniards wish to forget. General Franco met here on the island with his other conspirators to plan the uprising against the democratically elected government. With the help of, Nazi Germany, Franco took the lead and the Spanish Civil War commenced, on 18 July 1936. His dictatorship did not end until his death, on 20 November 1975.

     Today is not a day to celebrate, but a day to commemorate the fallen on both sides of the fight.