Earlier this week we had the hottest day of the summer. One giddy day of wall to wall sunshine and no clouds. Over-excited media broadcasters called it a mini heatwave. It was just one day!
Not that we didn’t get a bit giddy and go for an evening adventure in the camper van and a swim at a different beach to our regular one.
A beach that is only dog friendly after 6pm in the summer. I suppose we imagined that we might be one of the few on the sand at 6. Not so at all, it was packed and it was only the long shadows of later on that chased people away.
Cawsand Bay was buzzing with happy people. Yachts and motor boats moored, some playing music as they prepared supper in their galleys. Even the wasp- like jet ski’s were silently bobbing on the waves just taking in the last heat of a lovely day.
However beautiful this spot is in summer we are far more regular visitors in the winter,when the dogs are welcome all day and we can be comforted by warm clothes and hot drinks. We should do this trip more often on summer evenings.
Where is the fun in an overused word when a rarely used word has been tapping at my brain for more than 37 years.
The term matrescence was created in the 1970s by an anthropologist, Dana Rafael who suggested the name for the period from conception to the child’s early years. She also suggested that matrescence was possibly a life long series of changes for women.
By the late eighties and early nineties there had been enough research for there to be a degree of knowledge around the changes that affected me, but the negatives, post partum depression, forced insomnia and exhaustion were quite rightly the headline issues.
Back to the odd question of the day and why I chose to subvert it .
Yesterday I went for an evening walk in a coastal graveyard, the under research or understanding of matrescence, a word that few people use, became a little clearer to me.
This is the backside of the grave of a woman called Jane who died in a small coastal community 200 years ago. Also listed on her grave were 3 of her dead infants, none of whom survived beyond 1 year old. The most recent infant death occurred 1 month before her own death. Her husband was also buried in the same grave but had lived a more normal lifespan. Just surviving childbirth was enough 200 years ago.
Even 100 years later things were not much improved in poor communities. But 50 years later in the 1970s, motherhood and infancy were not such a risky business and Matrescence got a name and some academic study.
Women and their babies stood a good chance of surviving and thriving, so the less critical to life changes, were being observed, considered and written about. Absolutely a good thing, but in 1970 Dana Rafael suggested that the changes were likely to be lifelong and that at key points puberty, menopause and later life women are likely to have more changes if they also have ongoing matrescence.
These 3 intersections of womanhood have barely been researched.
Around 50 years after Matrescence got a name, Dr Will Courtenay put Patrescence on the academic table. The effect of parenthood on men.
Now men have some skin in the game I wonder where the available research funding will go?
What does history suggest?
Pondering in a coastal graveyard, it makes me think. See link below.
I love the serenity of this image that I painted a couple of times about ten years ago. I rarely find peace with one of my paintings but wherever the two paintings are I hope their owners find serenity in this woman’s peace.
Serenity on a Sunday.
Below is my instagram reel featuring the Grandmothers Click Song
Texture and Context. Wandering around a favourite local tourist attraction, with small people, alters the context of my adult engagement with the place. On this occasion, Heligan Gardens near Mevagissy in Cornwall. Small people linger longer in places that I give less time to. But they also give me less time to gather information because their needs, interests and safety are less predictable than mine. I would love to be able to tell you which rare breed of donkey owns this beautiful fluffy ear. We visited her many times practiced the word donkey and moved on.
Similarly the Bronze Turkey.
We made animal noises in English and Polish. They are not the same.
And stare in wonder at a tiny fairy ring growing in a border.
But a small person version of a favourite place is not all hustle and bustle. I was left for ten minutes in the potting shed and again in the head gardeners office while playing hide and seek. Wonderful silent places where the illusion of stepping back a century or so is tranquil and authentic.
And where my pursuers are glimpsed through dusty old windows.
My fascination with bees is tempered by worrying if small fingers may try to touch a bee bottom. For once, a good enough photograph is the perfect balance of being a competent and trusted nana.
No bottoms touched.
The other thing busy days with small people affects is enough moments to summon up a blog. My apologies for yesterday, maybe I can crack out two today. Maybe not. But there are plenty more pictures to share…
Funny how things pop up in life. I am that someone, if I feel I have the life skills and the time and energy to be the ‘someone’
But being ‘someone’ sometimes bites you on the bum. And when that happens a little time is needed to recalibrate. What better way to recalibrate than with another shot of Lark Ascending.
A beautiful rose is a fabulous thing. I think this one is called Lark Ascending which is a famous poem by George Meredith . I am not particularly familiar with the poem but am much more familiar with a piece of music by Vaughn Williams which was inspired by the poem.
Then in the way of a chain reaction the music inspired the naming of this rose. And the rose inspired me to do a little bit of digital tweaking and some googling.
I love chains of creativity and sometimes I love that a beautiful flower can knock all other thoughts, especially the grumpy ones, from my mind just by being droopily lovely.
I feel I am a late convert to roses and this summer the peachy coloured ones are my special favourites. My grandad was a rose grower in quite a big way . Having lived through two world wars he favoured one called Peace. Primarily yellow and pink, his were more peachy growing in a clay soil. Which maybe is the link. Peace got its name because it had an extraordinary creation story. Just a little research led me to another WordPress Blog page.
Co-incidence is a wonderful thing. The serendipity of life is a major factor in my blog writing.
Until this popped up yesterday I had no idea I had been blogging so long. The early years went through a few transitions and I really only found my niche when I accidentally hit on a prolonged daily blogging regime. Like many things in life Covid-19 caused a three month course related project to become open ended when the end point,the second part of the course failed to happen for two years.
15 years and 1000 editions of the current blog feels like an achievement. Not epic or outstanding, certainly not life changing for anyone beyond myself. I have become much more observant of the minutiae of a moment or tiny details in the bigger picture.
This picture of a snail appeared in the blog in 2017.
Much more recently Snails and I have been pondering companions as I undertook the white wall painting in the yard.
The two snails nicely demonstrate the different textures and directions of life. The last snail posing occurred this week. Not such great focus on the snail.
But this is where blogging, and my love of art and odd photography collide. A Surreal celebration of 15 years or a thousand blogs. Courtesy of my unpredictable photo manipulating app.
Below is the snail of the moment.
A snail just waiting for something to pique her interest. The USP of my blog. Just waiting for something however small to spark a few words
#999 What’s the Fuschia?(Future) Big day tomorrow @theoldmortuary 1000 days of the latest iteration of my daily bloggings. A wise woman would not predict the future, she might just lay in a wooded glade and be grateful for the present
In the recent past there have been many wet days.
But now the sun is out and surface water is not all green and murky.
Time for swimming spots and local beaches . And resting in the shade being grateful for the now.
