Things lost

Silecroft 
I had intended to swim but thought … maybe not.

A and I have been meaning to catch up for ages. Before Covid, we would have lunch at Cafe West before meetings when we both worked in Workington. Since then neither of us have been based there but I’ve been to A’s home near Millom on cat sitting duties. It was around the time of my last trip that I lost my necklace. I have already been back to the layby but today, we had arranged a meet up at A’s and so I went to the layby where I’d started out on my walk to Gutterby Spa Well and then on to Silecroft where I had walked. I knew it was hopeless … something to do with the inevitable and letting it go, I guess. I had the absurd notion that it might have been found and placed on the parish notice board of the chapel at Whicham, or hanging on the wall there, or, even more absurdly, that it would pop out from amongst the many miles of wave washed and battered pebbles. It didn’t matter. The wind and waves were mighty and full of a wild energy.

I went on to A’s and we had a good catch up before I wended my way home again. Both the cat and the plants seem to have survived my ministrations.

Postscript: I’ve just been notified it’s one of my blip birthdays … 3,000 apparently! Not quite sure what that signifies but it’s much more than a number … an excellent world of learning, recording and connections. Thanks to all of you who call by and, as always, to those behind the scenes that give their time voluntarily and selflessly to keep us going.

Post postscript: … thought I really ought to add a poem!

One Art - Elizabeth Bishop 

The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.

—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident
the art of losing’s not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.