Meantime, while I was in the discussion meeting my father was taken into hospital, so I'm on standby for news, and not fully able to concentrate.
While I'm waiting, in the spirit of present-moment-awareness and appreciation, here's the snippet of news from South Devon: spring is springing. To my great delight the wild garlic is in leaf here – in beautiful lush exuberant leaf.
I gathered a big bunch last night, and tonight, Shrove Tuesday (St Piran's Day too for we Cornish), I shall make leek, spinach and wild garlic pancakes, with goat's cheese in TM's ones.
In celebration of this new lushness, here's a version of an old poem of mine:
The wild garlic this year amongst the bluebell spikes
is suddenly prolific, pungent as parable. I’m gathering
leaves by the armful, and soon the starry flowers. For months
it’ll spice our table; better for the heart even than roses.
Everyone we love and everything we know will be taken
from us one day, or we’ll leave them. That’s what the wise
priest said at that wedding all those years ago. Knowing that,
how can I not love this world fully, while I may?