Tuesday, 15 January 2019

Tuesday

Not a bad day here again, sun came through quite early and shone for much of the day.   It has been fairly mild but quite windy.   I had a late start as I  woke up an hour late at eight am after a rather disturbed night.   For the second time this week Tess woke me in the night with a short bark from her bed in the kitchen.   At least I think she did, although I am beginning to wonder if I am dreaming that she is barking. 

Thinking that she just might want to wee (or worse) I got up, put on my dressing gown and slippers and went to her crate.   She was sitting up and looking rather surprised  (I suppose she heard me coming) but I put her on her long leash and opened the front door letting her out on to the front lawn.   She does her late wee on the lawn every night of the year and I can recommend it - my lawn is beautifully green (in parts!).   Just as earlier in the week, she made no attempt to walk on to the grass and wee.   She sat happily on the front step looking up and down the road.  I stood just inside the door getting decidedly chilly.  The road was so quiet, the street lights stay on all night and there is one almost outside my bungalow.   The moon was shining.  After two minutes I brought her in, put her back in her bed and climbed back into mine.   My hot water bottle was still warm - I was soon warm and asleep again. 

This morning I was out at our monthly meeting where a group of friends meet once a month for a quiet hour to talk over any problems, any worries or just anything we wish to air really.   Afterwards friend W and I once a fortnight go out to lunch with another group who have become friends - about a dozen of us meet for lunch cooked by A  - today it was Lamb casserole followed by Christmas pud and custard.   

Brain exercises for the rest of the afternoon - walking the dog exercises my limbs, The Times mind exercises exercise my brain.   If I do both every day then I feel it helps to keep me going.
Now it is time to sign off and choose my poetry because tomorrow is our monthly Poetry meeting.
Do you have a favourite poem?   Mine seems to change with the seasons.  This time of the year I always read A E Housman's Shropshire Lad - particularly 'Lovliest of trees, the cherry now' (if you don't know it please do look it up - it will make you think of spring and all of us need that at this time of the year.)

21 comments:

Shawn said...

I also like that Housman poem. Perhaps my favorite poem is Elizabeth Bishop's "One Art". Do you know her work?

Sounds like Tess just want a little fresh air in the middle of the night. Probably best not to indulge this desire unless you want it too.

justjill said...

Jenny Joseph Practising wearing purple. I also like many others including first world war poets.

Midmarsh John said...

Similar experience here with Penny barking. A few times when I have nodded off in the chair I have been suddenly woken by what seemed to be Penny giving one loud bark. When I have looked at her she has been fast asleep. She has never done that while I've been awake. I was beginning to think I was dreaming.

Unknown said...

Heraclitus by William Cory And Ithica by Cavafy. But Sonnet 29 by Shakespear is REAL CONSOLATION.

eh

jinxxxygirl said...

I had to memorize one particular poem in English class Pat and i still remember the beginning of it.. "Look to this day for it is life ... the very life of life and in its brief course ........... Is that by Robert Frost?? Anyway.. Great post today Pat! Hugs! deb

Bobbie said...

I looked up the poem. Beautiful :) I love reading your posts. Sleep well tonight. Bobbie

susie @ persimmon moon cottage said...

Maybe she is barking in her sleep and wakes herself(and you) up. My Fuzzy sometimes barks in his sleep. He also sometimes seems to be dreaming he is a tiny puppy again.He makes sucking noises with his mouth a little open as if he was a puppy nursing from Mama dog.

Rachel Phillips said...

I thought you couldn't hear anything at night. Perhaps you are dreaming. I don't have a favourite poem, just lots of poems.

wherethejourneytakesme said...

When I hear the name Shropshire Lad I just remember my FIL - we had the funeral tea at a place called the Shropshire Lad in Shrewsbury!
Hope you have a better night tonight.

AK Coldweather said...

This one is lovely...
The Pasture, by Robert Frost...

I'm going out to clean the pasture spring;
I'll only stop to rake the leaves away
(And wait to watch the water clear, I may):
I shan't be gone long.—You come too.

I'm going out to fetch the little calf
That's standing by the mother. It's so young,
It totters when she licks it with her tongue.
I shan't be gone long.—You come too.

Librarian said...

I admire your friend who cooks lunch for a dozen every fortnight! I don't think I have ever cooked a meal for so many people. When there are more than six to feed, I usually resort to a buffet with only one or no hot dish, and there are always one or two contributions to the buffet from my Mum and my sister. Apart from me not being used to cooking for many people, I wouldn't even know where to seat them all - I have only a small dining table in the kitchen, so that everyone would have to balance their plates on their knees; that's OK for buffet or finger food but not feasible when there is meat to cut or soup/pasta to spoon etc.

Mostly grey yesterday again, but some sunny patches during the day and no rain.

Derek Faulkner said...

"Poem in October" - Dylan Thomas.
My dog will bark quite loudly in the night when she's dreaming.

thelma said...

Robert Bridges - 'Idle Flowers' Aways up early in the mornning, just listened to the owl as it hunts in the church yard.

Frances said...

" Where are the snowdrops said the sun". ....Annie Matheson. 1853-1924. I have never gone looking for poetry, but this one is lovely. I may have mentioned it to you before I think? For some reason it makes me feel like crying if I read it aloud!

Jennyff said...

The Ancient Mariner by Coleridge. I don't know what that says about me but I've loved it since I studied it for my GCE more than 50 years ago and I still read it.

Heather said...

Your disturbed night made me think back to past ones with my own pets or while looking after my daughter's dog. I would find myself at the back door shivering and admiring the moon while the dog sat in the middle of the lawn just sniffing the air!
I must dip into my poetry books more often but those that resonate most for me are the ones about the countryside. John Clare is just one favourite poet.

The Weaver of Grass said...

Thanks to you all for some lovely ideas for this afternoon's poetry meeting. I have read them all (justjill - as we are all of a 'certain age' we frequently have the Jenny Joseph). I am going to read -One art, Look to this day, The Pasture, and the Dylan Thomas (he really is the master with language isn't he?)
Rachel - good point. The 'noise' woke me up so I think you may well be right.

Minigranny said...

The Darkling Thrush by Thomas Hardy often comes to mind at this time of year. I do like the Houseman poem too.

Carol Caldwell said...

I have dreamt a noise that has woken me up quite a few times. Sometimes it's a knock at the door which I realise it couldn't be in the middle of the night or an a alarm or bell. It seems so real but when I wake I know it can't be real so I must have dreamt it and yet it wakes me with a jolt. Most recently I was woken by our chicken's alarm call but realised when awake it was silent and dark so they would be locked away in their safe chicken shed. It unsettled me though and I couldn't get back to sleep and had to resist going out to check in the middle of the night and disturbing my husband. I was so relieved in the morning to find that all was well and I must have dreamt it.

Anonymous said...

I love this one, from a Bellingham WA writer- Ella Higginson. She is being newly discovered and appreciated here.

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/52101/four-leaf-clover
It is especially beautiful when read aloud.

liparifam said...

Carol - I "dream" noises, too. I wake, so certain I heard something, but when I see my little dog hasn't moved a muscle, I realize it was in my mind... I also "smell" things in my sleep - often it's smoke. Weird. Not sure I could choose a favorite poem, but I love Mary Oliver's poems about her dogs, and Ron Rash, a brilliant poet and novelist from North Carolina is my absolute favorite. His poems about growing up in the rural South are magnificent... I also always loved Auden's "Funeral Blues".