Sol Invictus by Frog

My friend Frog shared these wintry photos, I found them so calming that I’m passing them on to any reader feeling festivally frazzled!

Sol invictus (2)

Look at the sky, what do you see?

Just like most of Europe, Kent is baking under a heat wave but as we know, mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun; starting from an early age. My two-and-a-half year old grandson was called in by his mother, who was ready for her siesta. ‘I can’t come in for a nap, the sky’s awake!’

I don’t doubt that a nap would have done good to both parent and child, but being awake and watchful can be good too!

Surely it was a day like this when the fiery chariot swung low to collect the Prophet Elijah. Elisha was certainly watching carefully. (2 Kings 2)

Winter’s evening

I went to close the curtains and was surprised by the sunset which at this time of year happens at the other end of the street, as you can see. The golden glow at bottom centre comes from fairy lights strung around a bush by neighbours; Christmas joy is still around!

31 August: Sunflowers

Sunflowers

To sing break-heartedly of light
Like dying sunflowers
Gathering to themselves their life,
Defying that which is their source.
Small suns, we grasp your wantonness
And would reverse your death.
Our poorness seize your gold.

But go you must,
Dear small reflections
Of so great a God,
We would you stay.

Sheila Billingsley.

The sunflowers are indeed ‘gathering to themselves their life’ as Summer strolls into Autumn. The seed heads will turn to black, attracting the birds when they are hung up in the garden in weeks to come; we cannot seize their gold, but we can remember them, and save a few seeds to reflect God next year.

Give me your answer true!

The champion weeder was due back at the garden today after absence due to the corona virus. Maybe that’s why I noticed the daisies, turning their golden eyes to the sun. In the event, he found plenty to do in another corner, so they live to smile another day!

Going viral XVII: come on in.

This was the sight that greeted me when I got to work at the Glebe this morning. My corona virus sanctioned exercise for the day: three hours of gardening, in sunshine or those cool shadows. And the first radishes awaiting attention.

The red flowers are campion, sown from a pack of wild flowers a few years ago. They will need sorting out at some stage, as they have become a haven for aphids. Let’s hope some aphid-eating bugs occupy the wooden bug house this year!

Sunflowers

Last year, for reasons that now escape me, I took my beloved Brompton bike for a ride around Rye, across the border into Sussex, as a reflective part of my birthday celebration. I passed to the north of a field of sunflowers, which, being sun-worshippers, all had their backs to me.

This time, my seventieth year from heaven completed, we celebrated beneath these sunflowers at the L’Arche garden in Canterbury. This time, we were to the south of the blooms, and received the blessing of their faces, reflecting their master as they smiled upon us.

And a good time was had by all!

At the car park again

The other day when I walked past this point the sun was shining, the parking warden was smiling and ready to chat when I asked if the motorists were all keeping the rules. ‘Aye, today they are, but it won’t be long before someone gets it wrong.’ He went on, ‘Enjoy this sunshine. It puts a smile on your face, and you’re glad to be out of doors.’ Opening his arms and broadening his Scottish accent, he concluded, ‘And the great thing is, they cannae tax ye for it!’

Enjoy your day, sun, wind, or shower.

Even the bees.

Even the bees are feeling the spring in mid-February.

I hope it warms you too, even if another beast from the East appears next month. And there were worms and centipedes in the compost heap that Abel and I were harvesting. A day to be out of doors!

A winter’s sky.

One morning a couple of years ago a group of people awaited the arrival of the substitute librarian at Wood Avenue branch library in Folkestone.

I looked up and saw this skyscape. The black line at the top is the top of the library wall. Standing in the shadow allowed me to capture the two faint spectra in the grey sky created by the cold and the neighbouring English Channel. Re-organising files allowed me to share the picture!

The Folkestone libraries were very welcoming to my students and me; lets hope that can continue for my colleagues despite the financial constraints.