|Posted by dawngriffis on May 11, 2018 at 2:55 PM|
For the first and last time I am going to post the American part and pictures first. The reason for this, you will understand why at the end of this blog.
The first photos were sent to me by dear friends who moved to Arizona, we miss them greatly, but they are very happy there. They took these photos of spring flowers in their neighborhood. They are different from any seen in either New England or England. I have no idea what they are so we will just enjoy their beauty.
Photos are by Jean and Corb Sponcel.
In England at this time of the year spring is in full swing with flowers becoming abundant in the town and country cottage gardens. The hedgerows are green and spring blossoms blooming in them, bees are busy gathering their nectar, birds are building their nests and busy caring for their first babies, they are singing their hearts out. As beautiful as all this is, it far more beautiful and uplifting to walk in the bluebell woods. The trees reach majestically to the heavens with their leaves spreading to give welcome shade to all below. It reminds me of what my grandfather used to say. ‘Who needs the churches and grand cathedrals when you have English woodlands? The trees are his cathedral, and there is none so beautiful when the sun is shining through’. I totally agree with him.
I asked Beverley Coleman to write a poem especially for you to put in this very special blog.
Spring in England
The Month of May how glorious
To walk the fields we love
Taking in the scenery
From the hillside up above.
Seeing Lambs in meadows
Skipping to and fro
Keeping to the pathways
A long long way to go.
Oil seed rape in the fields around Aynhoe by Kay Anderson
Oil seed rape in Aynhoe by Maureen Tyrrell
Frolicking lambs on Google
Yellow fields of Oilseed Rape
Glowing in the sun
Hearing ....oh the Cuckoo
Remembering this one.
The Cuckoo comes in April
He sings his song in May
He changes tune in the middle of June
And then he flies away.
Cuckoo by Anthony Morris
I wander on still thinking
And there before my eyes
A woodland how exciting
But now for the surprise
Bluebells by Irene Dumbleton
A carpet ...oh so beautiful
Has just come into view
These little bells..magnificent
An amazing shade of blue.
They grace our paths and gardens
Our lanes and woodlands too
The Bluebell in its spender
So here’s a sneak preview.
Bluebells at Worton Woods May 10th by Beverley Coleman
Bluebells in the same woods by David Sydney Woodman
Bluebells in the same woods by Irene Dumbleton
Another by Irene Dmbleton
The last from Irene Dumbleton, thank you Irene
Yesterday Banbury Friends went on their first Bluebell woodland walk, there are many such woods all over England for people to enjoy. Beverley wrote this one about it what they saw, heard and smelled while they were there, it is all very intoxicating.
The birds are singing in the trees
The woodland is so still
We enter very gingerly
We all do know the drill.
Keeping to the pathways
Watching where we step
The route is marked out for us
As Dave has done the prep.
There’s Bluebells in abundance
A fabulous sight to see
A carpet in the shade of trees
Right there in front of me
Every year I see them
The awesomeness is great
To tread the English countryside
Like being on a date.
Exciting....yes of course it is
Close you eyes and smell the scent
The air is fresh ...the pastures green
All have been heaven sent.
A twig breaks in the distance
Someone else is there in view
A traveler on a mission
Says Hi !! To me and you.
We pass and keep on going
A bit wet from last nights rain
Let’s hope it hasn’t spoilt them
I’m sure we won’t complain.
With all our pictures taken
A good walk had by all
We make our way for sandwiches
To Middle Barton Village Hall.
Everyone is happy
Good fun was what i had
And now the parties over
I’m weary.....just a tad.
Here is the very talented and caring Beverley Coleman in amongst the Bluebells yesterday Thank you Bev.
Now sadly for the reason this blog is reversed. I wanted it to leave you with a small idea what living in England is like over the past few years, and has been for many generations of people lucky enough to live there.
As many of you know for over a year my husband Mike, has been very ill, had many hospitalizations along with many complications. I am happy to say he has been stable for almost 3 months, so we had hoped things would continue. It was not to be, now my left knee has gone to ‘pot’ the result of many old injuries. I’m going to have to have a replacement, and as we all know recovery is not fast after it is done. With that in mind and considering how long and hard most winters are here in Vermont. We can no long manage to live in this house with all the work involved, and we can’t afford to pay for it to be done. We are going to have to downsize severely from all we have gathered after almost 56 years of marriage, it is not going to be easy, because of all the memories involved. As our girls have said we would be better renting, so we would no longer have all the maintenance worries and work. We are hoping to be able to find something with a small outside area or porch so we can sit outside and have some flowers to enjoy, plus a few herbs would be perfect.
Coming to this decision has not been easy and don’t expect it to get much better for sometime. This will take all my energy to do what has to be done for the foreseeable future. Therefore this is my last blog, I will miss not writing for all of you, but hope you have enjoyed it. I feel right now, much as I did when in 2008, when I realised we had to leave England for the last time, because we were needed back here. It was very difficult thing to do. One morning I awoke with a poem going through my head, so I quickly wrote it down. I cannot write poetry, therefore I really think it was put in my head by my grandfather, who was quite a poet. As it fits here and especially at this time, when I also realise I will never, ever see my beloved England again.
I Have To Say Goodbye
Dawn Griffis 2008
It is not of my choosing to leave the village of my birth
I had returned after forty long years
To live my life in the place I loved until my end
To be buried in the soil of our Church
Along with my ancestors of four hundred years
Sadly it is not to be
I must once again leave the home I love
And the family I cherish long buried in the ground so old
I will miss the village’s crooked and curvy streets
The houses of so many shapes and sizes
That so many of my forebears
Lived worked and loved
I have to return to the land across the sea
Where the summers are green and very hot
Winters are white and very cold
The mountains are old but high enough
This land where my young and growing family still live
Growing healthy and strong
They are doing well
These children that are young and not so young
They say they miss us and need us
It is true – so we must leave
And let our bones be buried in another’s soil
So far from Aynhoe the village I love
But I can live no more
Hill Cottages Aynhoe by me in 1980
Aynhoe Church yard by me 2000
My grandparents home, known then as 20 Aynhoe, taken by me. This was our family home for 93 years.