There was frost on the shed roof this morning. And there was a skim of ice on the millpond. The sticky mud on the path through the wooded area I run through most days was frozen into hard ruts. Later, hanging washing out in the garden, I discovered that there was a thick layer of ice on the water butt. Whether the washing will dry or just freeze remains to be seen.
And yet, if you stand in a sheltered spot you can feel quite considerable warmth from the sun. It is in fact a beautiful day. The sky was completely clear when I got up but some cloud moved in later. But the stun is still shining. And yesterday I saw the first dandelion of 2024, well, the first one around here. The bees will be pleased. P doubt we’ll be starting to see those notices pleasing with us not to spray weedkiller on the dandelions. As they are amongst the first flowers to bloom in the spring, the bees rely on them for a source of nectar. If they’ve been sprayed with weedkiller, then the bees die. As simple as that! As for me, I rather like dandelions, a bit of brightness cheering us all up. I don’t even mind the dandelion clocks Sending their seeds blowing around. As children, we used to pretend to believe they were fairies, knowing full well what they really were.
Here’s a story about a town in Utah, USA, being over-run with tumbleweeds. It’s one of the classic Western scenes: an empty street in a small town somewhere in the Far West, with a clump of tumbleweed rolling along, and suspenseful music warning us that something dramatic, usually a confrontation between a couple of men with guns, is about to take place. This was a bit different: “tumblemageddon” or vast amounts of tumbleweed blown into towns, burying cars blocking doorways.
When we used to live in a small house in the valley between Delph and nearby Denshaw, on a couple of occasions we woke up to find we couldn’t immediately get out of the house because snow had drifted against the door. Once it was sleety rain that had blown against the whole door and then frozen into fantastic frost patterns. Like today, it was a fine sunny morning and when we opened the door the sheet of frosted sleet remained in place with the sun shining through it. Almost too beautiful to break, even to get out of then house. Of course, this predated mobile phones and so I did not snap an immediate photo.
It must be quite different, though, tuiijopen your door snd find your way blocked by about 10 feet of tangled blown-around undergrowth. Some people had to wait to be rescued!
Yesterday I came across this account by a released hostage, telling of her captivity in Gaza. The headline reads: ‘We were constantly in terror’: Israeli hostage tells of captivity in Gaza.
And yet it is worth noting that she says her captors protected them: “the Hamas guards put mattresses over us on the floor to cover us, and then they covered us with their bodies to protect us from our own forces’ shooting.” “They kept on telling us they’re not going to harm us and that we were very important to them,” Maybe it was empty reassurance but it sounds as though their guards expected the hostages to be quickly released: “When Agam (one of her children) had a panic attack on day two of their underground confinement, one Hamas guard reassured her: “Tuesday, you’re back in Israel.” “ Note also how horrified she was by the destruction: “I saw a lot of devastation and destruction,” Almog-Goldstein said. “It made me feel terrible seeing such poverty. It was very difficult to see that. It was not a great feeling of: ‘Oh great, we Israelis showed them.’”
And finally, here’s something about crocodile rptears from the estimable Michal Rosen:
'Time for your lesson in ancient literature, sir,' said the King's tutor.
'O really?' said the King.
'Yes,' said the tutor, 'do you know the story about the crocodiles?'
'Possibly,' said the King.
'The ancients noticed that crocodiles lay in the sun and then ate people,' said the tutor.
'Of course,' said the King.
'Ah but then they noticed that the crocodiles wept,' said the tutor.
'Yes, I had heard that,' said the King.
'What do we learn from this?' said the tutor.
'I don't know,' said the King.
'We learn,' said the tutor, 'that it's possible to cry about the people killed by our own actions.'
'But that would be hypocritical,' said the King.
'Perhaps,' said the tutor, 'but some people believe in the tears and think that that person is doing something to stop the killing. '
'You mean some people would go so far as to put on a false show of crying?' said the King.
'It's possible,' said the tutor.
'I can't think of anyone doing such a thing,' said the King.
Applicable to a lot of stuff going on all over the world.
Life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone!
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