Sambasue21

The first day of April.Depending on your orientation,a month of showers “sweet with fruit(“Chaucer,Prologue to Canterbury Tales ) ,heralding the spring or according to Eliot ,”a cruel month breeding lilacs out of the dead land “( Wasteland) His is a gloomier version of spring.

In Australia of course April heralds the approach of winter ,whereas in England it is the beginning of spring .

The expression reaches back to Old English and the belief that the pinch of salt would weaken a witch ,and the punch banish him or her .We still use the expression ,signalling new beginnings on the first day of a new month.

Nevertheless for me the expression also evokes the Punch and Judy shows that delighted the English part of my childhood :

The annual holiday to the Brighton seaside amongst the besandled and often wet English .The walk along the pier and the show was a break from the jam or peanut butter sandwiches on a damp and sunless beach.No sandcastles as no sand ,or not much on Brighton beaches 65years ago !

But I’m rambling -the quote just came into my head as I was thinking about the approach of Autumn here ,very much like the approach of Spring in England,specifically in my birth town of Bath in the South West .

The sun is less strident here this time of the year so that it shares some qualities with the sunshine now showing its face in Bath .Here the plants are gradually reviving and will briefly recover greenery before some of them are touched lightly and then more heavily by the wind and rain as our usually mild winter comes in ( that is we hope, as now with Climate Change weather is as unpredictable as our lives) Meantime in Bath the plants and trees will flower,emerging from the snow and wet and grey of an English winter into Sprin:daffodils and snowdrops ,bluebells scattered in clumps and bursts of colour.Then,hopefully,trees will show summer green ,and different flowers,daisies and marigolds and sweet smelling roses ,the herbs, rosemary and thyme , will blaze into a splendidly warm summer.

We still hope that the seasons will remain roughly the same Despite our knowledge of Climate Change we still hope for a measure of certainty in this time of the C Virus.Let us cling to a belief in an approximation of seasonal change.

Yes ,a small pinch to jolt me ,or maybe I should throw some salt at my witch and then punch her into oblivion.To remember that the world still goes round. To be reminded of the links between my self here in Fremantle ,and the part of my life in Bath ,England .I may also need a gentle punch to wake up and look around ,to breathe in the natural world which is governed still in part by the seasons .And to take in the new beginnings .

April .Here ,Easter here .My birthday April.My mothers death April, same day.Brief autumn here .Longer Spring there:and she told me that the daffodils emerged from the snow the morning after I was born .

The most beautiful time of the year in both my worlds.Plants no longer battling to survive.Still warm enough to swim in the sea.But some of us can still just stand on a sandy or pebbly beach and gaze at a horizon. Relish the space and freedom ,and the brief warmth .

Horizon through the rocks -actually the ship is waiting outside port Fremantle ,no longer allowed to dock.

This day dawns bright with promise -sunrise later now as winter is approaching.This morning is very still and bird call,specifically cockie call, less .Now that we have pulled out the sunflowers which have reached their end.I miss the mass of sunflowers that used to face me as I sat in the back garden at this time of the morning :when day has just dawned and the sky is a pale pink mixed with streaks of orange and red ,the moon a slight shape as the sun comes up over the horizon .

Sometimes there were 40 or so cockies ,perched precariously on the top of long stalks swaying with the slight breeze, seeds in hand, calling to their mates to come and enjoy this sunflower paradise.When I walked outside the gate for my morning walk I watched them striding over the road into Burford Place,picking up scattered seeds, chests puffed out and full of noisy self-satisfaction .They don’t move out of my way .

Today I am up later ,and there are only a few bedraggled looking sunflowers we haven’t got to yet and fewer cockies.There is less bird call as the day heats up, and no cockie army patrolling my street.

Corona virus time.Its hard to believe that its with us,and for the foreseeable future.”Maybe,just maybe it will go away early “a secret voice whispers within me.Maybe just maybe it won’t get to my town,my community,my neighbours ,my friends, my family.Its “out there .”

And then I see those lovely Spanish villagers ,the people in bars along the various caminos ,the old people who came out of their houses to talk ,or just walked towards us in the street to enquire how we were and wish us well , the friends we made along the Ways- the Rays and Rosas ,the,Carmens and Marias and Angelas,the Joses and Antonios(the many strangers and hospitalarios who guided us to albergues,,provided shelter and food,shared their celebrations and dancing, pointed out the Way, showed us special treasures.

I can describe the caves in ,where the hospitalario took us to his cave.He took us deeper into the wine making part and we poured wine from the old caskets by torchlight.Then they provided ensalada and queso with freshly made bread and we sat in the cave drinking the wine,eatingand talking.I still recall the taste of that food and wine ,and the lights flickering on the walls of the cave.Magic.No expectation of return,pure generosity and caring,and a desire to show us their treasures.Small wonders within a sometimes muted universe.Their wonders lit up our lives, and the light is with me still.Gracias por todo, mis amigos Espanoles .

So I think of those people especially ,and the CV can no longer be “out there”

those individuals and the interactions and experiences belong with me now: “Ve con Dios” the old people said to me on my first camino 14 years ago as I trudged through their tiny pueblos.Then as I smiled they clasped their hands together,made the sign of the cross with a “Rezo por mi en Santiago “

I am praying for you here, now .

s