Not Crying Over Spilled Milk

poured forth
ran out
flowed out
scattered about.
Spillage, SPILLAGE!

It was double cream to be exact.
flipped off the kitchen counter
landed upside down
white liquid flowing
under the kitchen unit
there to go sour
and smell.

Did my best
mopped and wiped
wiped and mopped
Sheet after sheet of
newspaper, turning translucent
sheet after sheet
into the bin, into the bin.

Degrease with dish soap
AKA washing-up liquid
water – rinse, more water-rinse
dry, dryer, more dry
rubbish wrapped, new liner
in the bin. Cry? Not likely
Rubbish to the outside bin.
No use crying over spilled cream

Or spilled anything for that matter.

That was yesterday while visiting an elderly woman and when about to pour the lovely white liquid on a piece of apple pie. No, no good crying over spilled milk or spilled anything for that matter. I’d have taken a photograph but I was standing in the puddle! Bare foot.

An Untroubled Bee Reflects

Here’s a picture of a bumble bee
looks nowt like you and nowt like me
only difference is – he is free
from ever looking inwardly

sniffs the flowers and
then is gone,
never troubled by right or wrong
sun is out and the
sky is blue
has no thought of me or you

More verses to be found on Herbwormwood’s blog

This poem took me right back to my teens when I wrote some words reflecting on a bee I’d observed as I lazily lay on a lawn. Bee and me we are one, labouring onwards and upwards.…dah de dah dee dah! I like the care free bee of this poem which is free from ever looking inwardly!

Insubstantially Yours – Truly

half an owl in flightJust what has happened in the past days? Weeks since I last posted. Daily life has a way of lifting and carrying one along with few resting places to contemplate, save for the formal meditations. Even our internet connection has been, how can I put it….insubstantial.  Take your chances where you can and if ‘it’s down’ a hike up the fields to catch a signal on my mobile device is how I keep in touch. On a basic level. Up there above the monastery it is wild and often windy. A place where wild creatures spread their wings – and fly.

owl in flight closerWhat good fortune last Sunday when I asked a chap visiting here if he was a photographer. Just a chance question. Turns out he was just back from a walk up to the wilder parts and caught images of this owl. In flight, and resting… Perfect.

owl on the wallA photographer is one who has a camera to hand, sees something and has the where-with-all to click the shutter at the critical moment(s). Yes Mark you are a photographer and thank you for sharing what you caught up there in the wilds.

One of the many activities which has had me otherwise engaged is taking photographs for the about to be re-launched Throssel website. I’ve been (in truth, about to) dig around in the photo archives to post images of Throssel as it was years ago, in black and white, to ‘galleries’. So when the site goes live you all will be the first to know about it.