May 27, 2020
My Dearest Boy,
As a child my favourite fairground ride was the Carousel. It combined a longing for a connection with ponies, the comfort and safety of being held tightly on the saddle by my Daddy and the tinkly music hall songs that my own Grandma and Grandad used to sing when slightly tipsy on their way back from the pub.
I was reminded of this recently on hearing Joni Mitchell’s song about time and change. The ground under my feet has changed from crispy, frosty, iron to baked Mediterranean dirt. The fresh, dewy, promising scent in the air has now become reminiscent of biscuits and cereal bars. Those shy, half-formed buds of the bird-seeded apple have grown to mature full, confident green leaves. In the course of these last three months as I take again my old familiar steps an infant Nature has grown into strong, vibrant adult.
The shenanigans in Government circles during this time have been played out against a background of personal sacrifice and tragedy. However, we continue to follow the rules and rightly we should. Some animals, you know, were always more equal than others (or so that old fairy tale goes). “And the painted ponies go up and down” so it ever was and is.
My deeper concerns are of the lack of rain at this time. The fact that the “May” faded so early this year; the rowan flowers died almost as soon as they were out; the elderflowers are already turning brown. Remember, though how good it is to see the dog rose.
The comforting constant in this season of changes is our love for you, My Dearest Boy and the skylark’s crystal song raining down from the clear skies accompanying me as I wander.
Grandad T and I love and miss you.