Saturday, August 11, 2012

Hope Only Appears to Slumber

What IS a poor boy to do? He runs around in the garden, he feeds the birds, he reads, he loosens the knots, he listens.
And he buys books, like this, John Baker's 'Cottage by the Springs', Phoenix House, London, 1961.
A London bookseller and publisher, of far greater attainment than I, John Baker found his escape in Wiltshire, renovating a ruined cottage, and building around it a garden in wet ground.
I am listening to Townes van Zandt, the Texan country/folk music singer, born the same day as my mother...
...and I am collecting flowers, whether they may be from out of another time, or from here, where the winter is giving us spring already.
A certain doggy, of course, needs to recline after a cold day's exertion. "Zara," Faisal said, "tuck your paws under some Texan sound, and dream of springs springing up, and some flighty birds needing to be chased."
John Baker is here "recalling a country experience in which, under the wide arc of the sky, the time and the place and the man combined to create an idyll which may find an echo in many a townsman's heart." THIS townsman, and his doggy, with hearts we hope will keep expanding, hear a song of  hope for all of the world, that for all of its residents, protection and renewal will be given.


  1. Hello Faisal:
    Whether it be a cottage by the springs or an apartment by the river or a bungalow by the beach, home is where the heart is. It is such a blessing in life if one can find a place which truly makes one feel completely 'at home' and where one can make one's own little Eden.

    How cleverly you have reflected the colours of the book cover with the various elements which you have used to illustrate your post. It all has a wonderfully 1950s feel to it, a time which we consider was when people lived more simply and pleasures were appreciated in even the smallest of things. Perfect!

  2. Faisal, I am not familiar with John Baker, however it sounds like the perfect book for one eager to head out into spring. I am beginning to collect my own winter reads. I find reading about others gardening experiences during the late winter months satisfies my eagerness to escape outside.

    So many objects in your compositions to send my thoughts swirling. Sweet Zara under her blanket dreaming of birds. Here, her thoughts would be of squirrels.

    Enjoy your weekend as you look forward to the season change.

    1. Bonnie, there's nothing better, for Zara, than chasing the blackbirds that proliferate.
      We have no squirrels, but we have possums, their Antipodean equivalent. As luck would have it, they are out and about when Zara is lost in sleep.
      Bonnie, every single word of yours is appreciated.
      May your own weekend be beautiful, lovely Bonnie.

  3. Hello Jane and Lance,
    my idea of 'home' is yet conceptual, although I have a talent for being at home wherever I am.
    I doubt I am clever. I hope to be able to absorb all that is around me, and that includes some very beautiful people such as yourselves.
    The 1950s, to me, were a time of great hope and I'm extremely grateful to have been born then, when the whiff of a better world got into my nostrils.

    1. another fifties child. Perhaps that is why those colours and textures appeal to me. The clam shell is pewter?

    2. Hello, Diana. Yes, the shell is pewter, from Portugal. Thankyou. Certain colours and smells and feelings just get under your skin, don't they? All the best to you!

  4. Seems like that particular "old boy" is spending his time in such a lovely way.
    Running around in the garden, feeding the birds, reading are becoming rare luxuries these days.

    Not to mention listening

    Enjoy dear Faisal : )

  5. This old boy doesn't get to run around in the garden all day, every day, but yes, it keeps me sane!
    Thankyou for your comment, Demie.

  6. If this is what a 'poor' boy does, he isn't poor at all. His life is enviable. Particularly as he still has his lovely companion slumbering under the blanket.

    1. Friko, there's no such thing as poverty. There is only how we feel inside. I have lived most most of my life alone, with doggies or a puss-cat, and that sustains me more than the company there may be, speculated, out there.
      Even on a strict budget.
      Less is more.

  7. i love and trust the hope you and zara share. the books looks to be a treat.

    1. Zara's my sister. I don't mean that for real. I mean, like you would know, there's a connection with a life in my own ambit. The littlest things mean most.