The Deer in Richmond Park

 The Hunters Are Coming

I hear a gun shot, a celebratory cry.

As I look in the bushes, a gleaming blue eye.

The hunters are coming, as big and as bad,

They've seen me I know, and they're especially glad.

Up to my feet I get with a rush,

Quickly I charge to hide by a thrush.

"Deer! over there" the hunters they shout.

Will I survive? I'm, beginning to doubt!

I run for my life, over the hill.

Yes! I'll survive. I beating them till ...

I'm flung in the air to the highest tree tops,

I taste blood in my mouth as this little deer drops.

For a moment I lie there, I lie there quite still,

But the hunters are coming, ready to kill.

I try to run, as fast as I can,

But I turn around swiftly, and I'm facing a man!

I close my brown eyes and take a last breath, 

But I squiggle and squirm, not ready for death.

I hear a gun shot, a celebratory cry.

Why was it me who had to die?

As I walked in Richmond Park this week, there was a sign up saying the deer cull is on for the next six weeks. Not completely sure how I feel about this. I do know that the deer, which are in a confined space practically in London, have to have their numbers controlled, and that probably the cull is the least cruel way to do this. 

But then I got home, and saw the poem above, which has been posted on the side of my fridge for the last few years. It was written by my daughter when she was in primary school, and does tug at the heart strings.

Looking back through my photographs, I realize I do not take many of the deer. The one at the top was taken at this time of year, and I kept it mainly because I liked the framing by the trees. And the other one was in mid-summer, when I think I was trying to photograph rabbits, and came upon this deer a bit too close by surprise. I am not sure who was more shocked.

Not much to show on the knitting front. I am making socks, and they seem to taking a long time. On the second one though!

Just a reminder that there is still time join in my Ginx Woolly Linx party for January. Click on the photo above or at the top of the page to find the party. I would love to see what you have been working on this month.

"Trolleys"

I'm not sure what is happening with me. This is rapidly becoming a dog/poetry blog. A few weeks ago I posted a poem that my mother had written "If in April", but since then going through her things we have found this clipping of her only published rhyme. It was printed in her local paper, The Orpington Times, back in 1982. The trolley pound system is pretty universal now. Perhaps my mum's poem did something to help. The poem is a little dated, as pound notes went out of circulation long ago, but she did have a good way with words.

"If in April"

If in April

If in April snow still lies upon the ground

With icy patches on the path,

You slip and bruise your knee

But still can struggle up and say

"I know that Spring is on the way".

Then you've got guts, my dear.

And if a gale has roared for days

And all your shrubs have been uprooted

And half the fence has blown away,

So last year's gardening was all in vain,

Yet you can say "I'll start again".

Then you have pluck, my dear.

And if the rain is pouring down

And your garden's one gigantic puddle

With all your seedlings washed away,

But you can calmly say

"I'll have to sow again".

Then you are brave, my dear.

But if in April, inbetween the showers

You see a patch of bright blue sky

And smell the scent of newly opened flowers

And see the shoots are breaking on the bough

It's then I know that you will say

"Spring at last is here to stay".

Peggy Watkins (1920-2017)

A Polar Work in Progress (and a Poem)

Polar Bear in there

There's a Polar Bear
In our Frigidaire-
He likes it 'cause it's cold in there.
With his seat in the meat
And his face in the fish
And his big hairy paws
In the buttery dish,
He's nibbling the noodles,
He's munching the rice,
He's slurping the soda,
He's licking the ice.
And he lets out a roar
If you open the door.
And it gives me a scare
To know he's in there--
That Polary Bear
In our Fridgitydaire.

  by Shel Silverstein 

I've been working on something new, although I am not quite there with it yet. Still something not quite right yet about the shape of the head, muzzle and nose in particular. Perhaps the back should be a bit less curved? The legs could be stronger looking? the neck wider and a bit longer, I think?

What keeps you from sleep? Sadly these little details are the things that are keeping me awake at night ....

A Meadow of Flowers

"In a meadow full of flowers, you cannot walk through and breathe those smells and see all those colors and remain angry. We have to support the beauty, the poetry, of life." Jonas Mekas

My local council have seeded several small areas with wild flowers. They are to encourage local insect and plant diversity. Aren't they beautiful? There are meant to be seven places, though so far I have only found three, but am on the look out for the others.

An Enchantment of Flower Fairies

 

 The Song of the Apple Blossom Fairies
By Cicely Mary Barker

Up in the tree we see you, blossom-babies,
All pink and white;
We think there must be fairies to protect you,
From frost and blight,
Until, some windy day, in drifts of petals,
You take your flight.

You'll fly away! But if we wait with patience,
Someday we'll find
Here, in your place, full-grown and ripe, the apples
You left behind-
A goodly gift indeed from blossom-babies,
To human-kind!

Here as promised are some fairies. I have slightly adapted my mermaid design into a fairy one, and have been busy making fairies all week. 

Apparently the group name for fairies is a herd (definitely not going to use that) or a frolic (quite like that name). But I have decided to invent my own collective noun, An Enchantment of Fairies. Perhaps it will catch on.

The Song of the Forget-Me-Not Fairy By Cicely Mary Parker     So small, so blue, in grassy places
My flowers raise
Their tiny faces.
By streams my bigger sisters grow,
And smile in gardens,
In a row.
I've never seen a garden plot;
But though I'm small
Forget me not!
It may not be clear from the photos, but these fairies, and the mermaids from last week, are really tiny, about 6-7cm. Even taking these photos has been really tricky. The slightest breeze and the fairy has gone flying from the tree, or I have found the right flower, but in a dark dank corner of the garden.

I have tried to decorate the fairy dresses according to some of Cicely Mary Barker's Flower Fairy Poems, but I do not have all the flowers I have embroidered in my garden. So today I am setting off with my camera, and a little bag of fairy folk, in search of the flowers of some of the fairies I have not photographed yet. So if you see a strange women crawling round the bushes, that will probably be me ...   

The pattern is now available on ravelry. Just click on the link in my sidebar.

The Song of the Daisy Fairy
By Cicely Mary Parker

Come to me and play with me,
I'm the babies' flower;
Make a necklace gay with me,
Spend the whole long day with me,
Till the sunset hour.

I must say Good-night, you know,
Till tomorrow's playtime;
Close my petals tight, you know,
Shut the read and white, you know,
Sleeping till the daytime.

  

A small selection of my fairies and mermaids are available to buy in my Etsy Shop.

A Mischief of Mice

Mice 

by Rose Fyleman

I think mice are rather nice,

Their tails are long,

Their ears are small,

They haven't any chins at all.

Their ears are pink,

Their teeth are white,

They run around the house at night.

And nibble things they shouldn't touch,

And no one seems to like them much.

But I think mice are rather nice.

I learned this poem when I was a child at school. I don't think children are made to learn and recite poems very much these days, but I think it is a really good exercise. Once you have learned a poem you hopefully will have it for life. I would love to know if you can still recite  a poem that you learned at school? The only other one that I can remember is Gather Ye Rosebuds. I had to learn and recite it to the prefects, as a punishment. I had hidden in the loos instead of going to assembly with my friend Hilary, as she was unset because her hamster had died. But that is another story ...

I don't talk about my job much. No day is the same, it is never boring, and often very rewarding. This will sound a bit batty, but I think children are like seedlings, and it is important for them to have the best start possible. Obviously home is the most important, but so is school. You don't know what life will throw at you, but a good start may see you through.

Anyway today I had such a fantastic day, with a trip with the school choir to an old people's day centre, back to school for Christmas lunch, and then the most hilarious pantomine performed by the staff for the children. (I think I can say that, as I was not in the cast, but sitting with the children.) Sometimes I can't believe that they pay me as well.

My class is not full, and I decided a while ago to make a mouse for all of the seventeen children, as a Christmas gift. The pattern is from Yellow, Pink and Sparkly. I started with some Fair Isle ones, but after a while I decided to branch out ...

Stripey Mice 

Flowery Mice

and a few plain mice (which are my favourite).

Did you know one of the group names for mice is a mischief?

So now for a bit of mouse wrapping ....