Here, I hope, are the photos I failed to post yesterday.
We saw lambs frolicking
lots of blossom
and zooming in on the view of the millpond, our old friend the heron.
There you go!
I read today about the Book Women of the USA. In the 1930s, during the Great Depression, a group of librarians, women librarians, rode on horseback to all sorts of out of the way places, carrying books: story books for children, novels, useful books like cookery books and instruction manuals. In 1943, with the Second World War raging, funding for his service dried up but while the service operated those women delivered over 100,000 books to nearly 100,000 people.
I wonder what those librarians feel about the banning of books in some states!
Maybe they were the inspiration for Dolly Parton donating books to children all over the place.
I hear that scientists claim to have discovered a “new” colour. They have called it “olo” but can’t actually reproduce it as it can only be seen with laser manipulation of the retina. So most of us will never see what is described as “ jaw-dropping” and “incredibly saturated.” And then a thought occurred to me: how do we know that we all see the same colours anyway? Maybe the red I see is different from the one other people see.
Which brings me to Hellen Keller, who became deaf and blind as a result of an illness during her infancy. As a child was intrigued by the story of how she learned to speak, read, write and go on to lead a rich and fulfilling life. Then I came across this report of something that happened in 1924 as her family listened to music on the radio:
“The New York Symphony was performing Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony live. Someone in the room suggested she place her hand on the radio receiver to feel the vibrations.
What happened next defied reason—and redefined beauty.
With her fingers resting lightly on the diaphragm of the receiver, Keller felt more than vibration. She described the experience as “a sea of sound breaking against the silent shores of my soul.” Through the patterns of trembling and rhythm, she felt the pulse of cornets, the roar of drums, and the silken flow of violins. When the chorus soared into Beethoven’s triumphant “Ode to Joy,” she said it was like hearing “angelic voices rushing in a harmonious flood.”
It wasn’t hearing—not in the way we understand it. But it was something deeper. She felt music not just on her fingertips, but in her heart. She recognized joy, sadness, stillness, and power—all without a single note reaching her ears.
And in one of the most poignant passages of her letter, Helen remembered that Beethoven, too, was deaf. She said, “I marveled at the power of his quenchless spirit by which out of his pain he wrought such joy for others.”
A century later, that same joy lives on—because she proved that art has no boundary, and the human spirit can sense beauty in ways words can never fully explain.”
Nowadays I think there are special discos where deaf people can “hear” the music through vibrations on the floor. And maybe we all hear things differently too! After all there are people who see he world in a kinaesthetic way attributing colours to sound. I’d better not get started on taste and smell!
Life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone!
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