WHAT IS THIS LIFE...

…if, full of care, we have no time to stop and stare?  

So begins a poem by William Henry Davies and I thought it was quite apt when Mr. HCB, despite being well into digging out another two feet long met post, stopped to watch a little bee on the helenium flower in the front border.

We were both out in the green gym quite early again this morning and Mr. HCB was determined to get the last met post out.  Again, it was a very hard job, but he managed it, with a fork, spade and eventually a crowbar and a little help from me - and then finished digging the rest of the back border, ready for when someone comes tomorrow evening to give us a quote for the gravelling.

You may be fed up with seeing and hearing about our garden, but at least showing it on Blip means that we have a record of what we have done and when.  I found lots more snails and was busy sending them on a little trip over the fence whilst Mr. HCB was digging.  I made sure that I had tucked my trousers into my socks and wore a scarf too, just in case anything was thinking of biting me again.  It was quite warm in the garden, though a tad windy, but we had finished the hard work by about 12.30 so stopped to have a toasted sandwich.  

Not much more to report except that I have put the surplus plants from the back border into our holding beds and I’m now going to peel and chop lots of apples ready for them to be stewed with the last of the blackberries.  It sounds as if we will be going into some form of lockdown as from next week, so I have ordered my groceries from Waitrose for next Monday and we will see what happens.  Setting a curfew certainly won’t bother us - I don’t think we have been out for an evening since the middle of March - we are happy to be at home and just pottering around either in the house or garden.  In fact, I have really surprised myself (and Mr. HCB) with how well I have adapted to this different way of life. 

I hope you enjoy reading the rest of the poem I quoted from above and set out below, by William Henry Davies, a Welsh poet and writer.  He spent a significant part of his life as a tramp or hobo, in the United Kingdom and United States, but became one of the most popular poets of his time.  The principal themes in his work are observations about life's hardships, the ways in which the human condition is reflected in nature, his own tramping adventures and the various characters he met. If you're interested, you can read more about him here.

LEISURE

What is this life if, full of care,
     We have no time to stand and stare?
No time to stand beneath the boughs
     And stare as long as sheep or cows.
No time to see, when woods we pass,
     Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.
No time to see, in broad daylight,
     Streams full of stars, like skies at night.
No time to turn at Beauty's glance,
     And watch her feet, how they can dance.
No time to wait till her mouth can
     Enrich that smile her eyes began.
A poor life this if, full of care,
     We have no time to stand and stare.

William Henry Davies (3 July 1871– 26 September 1940)