RE-NEIGHSSANCE

‘News of my demise is a little premature’ – or words to that effect – were famously pronounced when someone saw his own Obituary in the Times.

These words sprang to mind immediately when yesterday, looking up from washing the dishes I saw dear old Butch, ‘our’ late-lamented ageing horse meander into view in the paddock below. ‘Oh Wow!’ I screamed - being by myself there was no one to hear, or watch as I dashed outside to take a closer look. I couldn’t believe my eyes, as Butch hasn’t made an appearance since the beginning of the year, and we had mourned his passing. I ran back indoors exultant, singing unaccountably at the top of my voice – ‘Horsey, Horsey, don’t you stop’. But when I looked back out of the window Butch was gone.

He didn’t appear again all morning, nor whilst we were having lunch. Even as I described to John my huge delight at having seen the missing nag once more, I began to wonder if it had all been a dream, or a mirage? It had been one of those hazy sunlit mornings, when everything takes on a sort of ethereal appearance, and though I looked over the hedge into his field several times there was no sign of him anywhere.

Easter might still be a couple of weeks’ away, but we have already had a Second-Coming here in our little bit of this green and pleasant land. As we sat enjoying an after-lunch coffee in the warm sunshine on our balcony, Butch hove into view. He sauntered about looking full of vigor and very spruce - in fact his fettle was very fine indeed - whilst we two, with silly smiles on our faces, were contentedly aware what pleasure is to be found in life’s unexpected little happenings.

DELIVERING THE MINUTES

The other morning I did my regular walk around and beyond the village delivering the Minutes of our Memorial Hall Management Committee of which I am Secretary. This is always a particular pleasure, as it gives me the opportunity of seeing how the changing seasons leave their mark on the set path I always follow.

The lanes I walk have no pavements, so I cross and re-cross the road, trying to keep clear of oncoming traffic. The few vehicles I encounter always give me a wide berth, and there’s nearly always a cheery wave from the driver and passengers.

This particular morning it was dry and cloudy, but everywhere I went there were daffodils in abundance, which could not fail to brighten my spirits. I passed a field of damp stubble which did look very melancholy, till I spotted a couple of clumps of old fashioned large-trumpeted daffodils shimmering down by the perimeter fence, and somehow these gave me more pleasure than all the others growing in beautifully tended front gardens. Just like life, I suppose, we need to experience the bad before we can really appreciate the good.





Someone has planted a sprinkling of daffodils in the grass alongside the old Victorian letter box set in an old stone wall. In the summer red poppies spiced up the roadside there, colour co-ordinating with the cheerful red paint.

Iwas surprised at how much was in bloom so soon after such a bad winter. Mauvey-purple aubretia festooned low stone garden walls, delicious buttery masses of primroses nestled under old bare trees, some tulips were just beginning to reveal their pinkness in a couple of garden tubs, and tiny tete-a-tete daffodils were everywhere – especially effective planted between clumps of low-growing purple heathers.

The hills which rise steeply behind the little groups of cottages along the way, and slope upwards beyond the fields on one side of the lane, took on a very contemplative appearance that morning. A few days earlier, when I had trodden the same path delivering the Agendas, the sun had been shining, and the hillsides were a patchwork of light and shade, ever changing.

But where were the six Jacob’s sheep which I always stop to admire? One time when I was passing, their owners were busy cutting their ‘toenails’, so I stopped for a chat and learnt that these beautiful creatures are kept as pets, and are sometimes taken back to their home to be petted and enjoyed by the family. These six all have names, and have scrumptious brown and white fleeces, with lovely gentle faces topped off by the most artistic curly horns. In winter when they come to watch me pass by, I have wanted to take one back home with me so that I could lie in front of the fire, nestling my head in its soft warm coat.

As I neared my home once more, a little car sped past carrying the logo of a Personal Fitness Trainer, no doubt having left some early morning exercise enthusiast to a much-needed shower and diet-breakfast. Back to civilisation again ......

' OLD BUTCH '

‘Have you seen Butch ?’ I ask John almost as soon as I get back indoors after being out more than an hour or so. He nods his head glumly and says he reckons Bruce is no more.. I keep hoping, but we haven't seen him at all this year, and after several warm days have passed without a sign of that dear old horse in the paddock, I have to admit that perhaps he really has kicked the final bucket.

Butch has been part of our life ever since we came to live here five years ago. When we first saw him chewing happily away at hummocks of grass not far from my studio window, we did a bit of a double take. Not only was his back really deeply curved, but he only had one eye. We realised he must have had a somewhat chequered past, but was obviously now receiving loving care, for in really bad weather we didn’t see him at all, and then on chilly dull days he would always be wearing a nice waterproof overcoat.

One day when working in the front garden we looked up to see Butch walking past, being sedately led along the road by a young woman. She explained that Butch was 27 years old !! – and that he had been ill-treated in the past, and ‘rescued’, and was now their much-loved pet, never ridden, but taken for a quiet walk from time to time which he seemed to much enjoy.

For the past two summers Butch has been joined in his paddock by half a dozen young calves. When they first arrived we wondered how he would cope with his new youthful companions, but they seemed to settle down very happily together. In fact he often seemed to be just enjoying their company, and keeping a fatherly eye on their antics.

Butch wasn’t averse to a few antics of his own. He had a particular post, along the fence beside the rhyne, on which he loved to have a good scratch. He would stand parallel with the fence and move backwards and forwards looking just like a child’s rocking horse. It obviously gave him a lot of pleasure as we once timed this exercise to find that he kept up the gentle rhythmic movements for a full quarter of an hour. We were worried that he might have made himself sore, and sure enough when he turned round to saunter back down the paddock, we could see a small area where his coat had been damaged, but that never seemed to stop him returning for another satisfying rub when the mood took him.

Butch might have been very old, but he still seemed to feel the call of spring in the air, and would be surprisingly spritely, and far more interested in everything about him. I once saw him suddenly look up from the pasture, cock his ears, then turn round at speed and dash off almost at a canter. I guessed he had seen Mistress at the entrance of his paddock, way out of our sight.

So now it looks as if we shalln’t see him again. He has been such a comforting presence, often standing outside my window for long periods of time, enjoying the warmth of the sun on his back. I don’t know how well he could see with his one remaining eye, but his obvious delight in his peaceful old age in spite of his handicap has provided a thoughtful example to the two of us here on the other side of the hedge.

He is sadly missed.

Bring Me Sunshine .....

The sun has come out again – in all respects!

Suddenly the weather got milder, and then the skies cleared, and we have had a few warm sunny days, which have been so very welcome after this miserably cold winter.

And sunshine has returned to our lives in other ways too after a somewhat cheerless year so far.

We have had the real pleasure of having our daughter Kerry come over from her home in Wales, to spend a few days’ holiday here with us. She brought her friend, and they much enjoyed relaxing on our balcony, taking in the view and the antics of the birds on our feeders, as well as seeing a little of the surrounding area.

Then at the weekend we were lucky enough to be part of a large family party at the Theatre Royal in Winchester to see our granddaughter Vicki play Ruth in a youth production of G & S’s ‘Pirates of Penzance’. She sang, she danced, was witty, dazzling and totally beguiling. The cast were breathtakingly energetic and enthusiastic, and to see 15 year old Vicki strutting her stuff so confidently out in front was such a joy. I had been saying how much I needed a good laugh during the past few gloomy weeks, and my Goodness this was a real tonic!

Back home in the garden spring is definitely in the air, with birdsong greeting us whenever whenever we venture outside. We have been thrilled to see a couple of tits come to look over the birdbox on the fence where we can keep watch on it from the garden room. I’m not sure which of the couple, male or female, actually did the viewing, but it was very thorough – popping inside for moments on end whilst its partner sat twitchingly impatient on a budding forsythia twig just outside. They both did a very thorough inspection of their possible new home and its surroundings – sitting up on the fence, then flying down to the roof of the box, going inside again and again – before finally flying off together. They obviously decided it wasn’t their idea of a des.res., but we are intrigued to know how they conveyed their decision to one another. We also wonder what is wrong with our birdbox? Perhaps they feel it isn’t safely enough protected by leaves and branches – though very soon the whole fence will be covered with the flowers, then leaves, of the forsythia, as well as a rambling rose which is already bursting with buds.

However, a robin has decided that the box hedge along the opposite side of the garden is JUST the place to set up home. We have been able to observe him with bits of dead leaves in his beak frantically flapping his wings and gliding along the side of the hedge like a helicopter, then suddenly diving into the foliage. Soon he emerges again and scrabbles about the rockery before repeating the process all over again. We haven’t dared to take a look for fear of disturbing him, but if ‘location, location..’ is relevant, then the various birdfeeders hanging in the nearby apple tree provide a very useful local ‘takeaway’.

This warmer, drier weather has made it possible for me to make three forays into the garden in recent days, in order to try to clear up the detritus left after the wealth of flowers we enjoyed all last year. Having heard that my 92 year old mother had got a back problem following an overly long first session digging in her garden recently (yes …. she WAS digging ….. she’s an amazing woman who still enjoys looking after her own garden)…. I decided to tackle the work ‘little and often’. I have now cleared the front garden, and have just one large bed under the garden room window to sort out. John gave the lawns their first mow this year a couple of days ago, so for the now everywhere looks very ‘kempt’ and we are able to enjoy the snowdrops, primroses, and daffodils now they have been rescued from under the dried up remains of last year’s glory.

At last – the First Day of Spring officially on 1st March (Jenny informs me it’s the first day of autumn Down Under ….. as she left these shores in the middle of summer last year, she must be more than ready for a change of season!) After this unusually long cold winter, everything in the garden is very late appearing – but then, much more appreciated when it does eventually materialise.