Time out.

Today, we enjoyed a late-afternoon drink outside the Auberge Hotel/Restaurant/Bar at Consenvoye.  It was warm and still sunny and a pleasant spot opposite the waters of the Canal Est and River Meuse.  The ducks were chattering and laughing as only they can do and neither they nor we minded the light passing traffic as people made their way home, or the old tractor chugging under a huge load of hay bales. Good to have time out and just relax and enjoy. 

Good too to have something to celebrate as we were returning from the hospital with the news that not for much longer will my husband have to put up with what has become a very painful hip.  He is to be admitted next Tuesday for a replacement-hip operation on Wednesday. 

Once again in this so-difficult year we can look forward to better times.

Above Mangiennes.

Whenever we return from the Duchy of Luxembourg and reach this point above the village of Mangiennes, we look at the distant hills and think of them as “the hills of home”.  Beyond them lies the town where we live.

Rather hazy yesterday…

This stopping point is beside a strange-looking building that we haven’t yet discovered what it is or what it was; perhaps a war-time building which has been adapted...but for what?  We really must make some enquiries…

On the bank at the side of the building, a group of cheery flowers…

after…1.

after…

my heart is heavy, weighed down with grief
and poetry has sunk like a stone in my soul
thoughts are jumbled, unclear
my footsteps falter as I try to find the path
which will lead me out of this dark place
as, with clouded eyes, I splash through my tears


Sheridan
07.02.68. - 20.08.16.

Friends

I posted this on Facebook this morning...

We have been blessed with such a lot of loving support these past few weeks that it seems appropriate to re-post this old one...

Friends

Friends are the links in the chain of our lives
More precious than a bright diamond band
Each friendship is jewel-like, to be admired
To protectively hold in your hand
Friends gathered in childhood and in our youth
Are with us throughout years of ageing
Other friendships are made along the way
Whenever our lives are a-changing
Treasure your friends as you go on life’s path
Befriend them when they need a shoulder
The warmth of their friendship will comfort you
When life seems to get a bit colder

© Ida Jones

do not seek me in the cold ground

I wrote this poem a few years ago when I realised we might not often, if ever, be able to visit our son's grave. Sadly, it now seems appropriate for both our children.


do not seek me in the cold ground

My bones may be in cold ground but do not seek me there.
I am not in the grey clouds that fill the evening air;
the gurgle of a stream is just the water running free,
it does not hide my laughter; that is in your memory.
I am not in the forest amid the treetops high
nor in the gentle breezes, when they blow a sigh.
I am not in wide fields, or down upon the beach;
look, but you’ll not find me for I am out of reach.
My voice is not in birdsong, or in children’s play;
I am not in the sunset that ends a busy day.
You will not find me in the wind that blows, or on a stormy sea;
nowhere in the whole wide world is the being that was me.
But the place where you will find me, even though we are apart,
is not so very far because I live on in your heart

© Ida Jones

R.I.P.   
Timothy David Berkshire Jones - 27.07.1963 - 01.09.1985
Sheridan Louise Berkshire Musson (nee Jones) 07.02.1968 - 20.08.2016

little outings

Because of family health problems, we do not get out much these days or for very long but sometimes are able to take a little time-out…

6th August

We return to a favourite spot - the riverside at Juvigny.  We are surprised at how much the flowers and shrubs have grown. 

We sit on a bench but the weather is very hot and we decide to sit in the car, parked under a shady tree, with the windows open. Two minutes later, someone arrives with a lawn mower and we have to move.  We take a scenic route and return home.

14th August

A drive through the countryside and a short stop at the entrance to the Damvillers forest…

Facing open countryside, the car park, picnic area and entrance to the forest is guarded by a beautiful, old tree...

Summer Sunday

hot, sunny Sunday afternoon
the indolent countryside
stretches out in the heat
gives up her golden harvest
as 24/7 farmers swelter,
bale hay and stack it high
on trailers behind tractors,
at their busiest time of year
no time to be lethargic -
that is left to me, a mere observer.
I sit by a village pond
in the shade of a willow
listening to the distant hum
of harvesters and tractors
chorus with birdsong in the still air.