Scour the news for an entirely uninteresting story. Consider how it connects to your life. Write about that.
Headlines always fascinate me. I know that they are written to grab attention and are largely forgotten once readers take a deep dive into the nitty gritty of the story.
What is a week’s worth of honey?
And to whom is it a weeks worth.
The answers are endless.
What does a week’s worth of Honey look like to you?
A jar lasts me about 6 months so my answer would be, about a teaspoon.
That would never satisfy two bears. But it might easily be a full weeks production for a busy bee.
The absolute silence in this reflective image of Sutton Harbour last night, does not in any way reflect the aural reality. The harbour had the rich sounds of the harbour through history. Tuesday evening dog walks around the harbour have the bell ringers of St Andrews Church as a regular and welcome soundscape. Seemingly performing perfectly, Tuesdays are their practice nights.
Coupled with the nearly still water in the harbour the acoustics were perfect last night. It was also the last day of the school summer term so families were filling the cafes, and their exhausted teachers were finding their way to the bars. The pavements filled with strange adult crocodiles of walkers. Large groups of colleagues making their way to their selected bar informally but formally, two by two. The only thing missing from the human crocodile were the luminous pink-tabarded attendants at either end.*
Live music spilt out from the bars across the harbour, and dancing girls made their, uncertain, way to a Salsa Bar. High heels and cobbles are tricksy at the best of time without the added uncertainty of a pre-class drink in the evening sunlight.
As seagulls circled, greedy for chips, the only thing missing from this moment , which could have been heard any time in the last 500 years, were the Fishermen and Sailors in any significant number. Fish are landed in Plymouth but the huge fish market is just a holding space for the fish auctions that are held on-line. I’m not sure what handsome young sailors en-masse do on Tuesday nights but they were not easily visible. Represented only by middle- class, older men, in two’s and fours. Pink trousered with those non-uniform, uniform caps they all wear to silently call one another from across a world crowded out by non-sailors.
The harbour hubbub and the people watching was just serendipitous concatenation at its unpredictable best last night.
A Golden Moment, I might say.
* I only realised the significance of the teacher element of last nights bar activity when I heard the crisp steps of a man walking from one bar to another. Who walks from one bar to another with recognisably crisp steps?
A man, or woman, who regularly crosses purposefully from one classroom to another. A warning sound of impending trouble that we all learn to recognise from age 5.
*Of course such a lovely evening was rich pickings on which to ponder.
A painting ponder was to sketch Sir Francis Drake and his wife Mary Newman in the contemporary attire of Summer 2025. She will be wearing a spotted flared dress for a night on the cobbles and he will be wearing the older casual sailor outfit with one significant difference. Those pink sailor trousers will be cropped to show off his shapely calves and feet in deck shoes with no socks.
Something that will require a lot more pondering is how to replace the phallic symbol of the hilt of his sword. I suspect an uncapped bottle of beer will have to do. Over-sized of course. No cold weather posing for Frank.
Sir Francis Drake on Plymouth Hoe ( a Spanish seagull has taken revenge on this day)
Morning mist and sticky heat. The Tidal Pool at Devils Point.
The sea mist was genuinely as dense as this first thing this morning, the borrowed light simply a reflection of the early morning sun, obscured, by mist, behind me. But the heat of the morning was uncomfortably sticky under the naturally occurring parasol. I have pondered a bit about the mystical, mythological stories linked to this area. Mostly because of my what3words discovery of yesterday.
My most regular spot for getting into the sea has this as it’s what3words location.
Allows.Wizard.Rival
I am quite charmed to think that there is a benign Sea Wizard allowing me to dump my troubles(rivals) into the sea each time I dip.
For no particular reason I checked the what3words location where I was standing to take this mornings pool picture.
Lush. Wonderfully. String. Not particularly relevant at first glance, but the drone shot clearly shows the wonderfully lush lawns of a local tennis club, and then for me there is a string. I am lucky enough to often work inside that club and also be there for entirely enjoyable reasons.
I love the simple pleasure of finding a what3words location that resonates personally
I pinched this poster from a Glastonbury Festival web page. Something about it caught my eye, but for the life of me I can’t quite identify what it is.
My best guess is the stylised butterfly and the designs similarity to a Brasso tin.
Brasso was my paternal grandparents idea of a good time for their only grandchild.
“What shall we do with her while she is here?”
“Lets get the Brasso out and then after that we can play Scrabble”
Hours passed, spoons were shined. Scrabble was played with no consideration given to the differences in our ages or vocabularies. Beyond that I read books that I had brought with me or lost myself in the concise encyclopaedias on their bookshelves. They had a television, I never experienced it being turned on. At the end of their period of caring I was either collected by my dad or sent home to walk home via the roads or via the fields of two conjoined farms that were between their home and mine.
I was taught to achieve this journey, safely by my grandfather who would accompany me to start with and then gradually once he was confident that I knew where I was going he did less and less of the journey with me. Ultimately just waving me off either at the front gate or the style at the top of their property which led to the meadows and pastures of the countryside that circled the small market town where we all lived.
Their ‘no frills’ grandparenting style taught me the power of one.
I can’t say that beyond that I have achieved the promise of the poster. I have only ever made little things happen and any movements I have started have not changed the world significantly. But also I don’t think I have done too much harm. Which is a good thing, but hardly the sort of statement that sits well on a poster.
I would say spirituality is one of the great intangibles. It presents in so many ways. I have no idea where I sit on the spirituality spectrum. Nowhere near the elite end, but probably more spiritual than a broad bean.
Proof of how intangible spirituality is I looked up the broad bean only to discover that it is quite the Spiritual Legume.
Broad beans, also known as fava beans, have a complex symbolic history, particularly in relation to death and the afterlife. While not universally considered spiritual, they have been associated with funerary rituals and the belief that they contain the souls of the deceased in some cultures. However, other traditions view them as symbols of resurrection, good luck, or even royalty.
Here’s a more detailed look:
Symbolism related to death and the underworld:
Ancient Greeks and Romans:Believed broad beans were linked to the underworld due to their long roots and the black spots on their flowers, which were seen as a connection between the world of the living and the dead.
Funerary rituals:Broad beans were sometimes spread over tombs to provide peace to the deceased.
Fave dei morti:In some traditions, like those in Italy, small cakes shaped like broad beans (but not actually made of them) are eaten on All Souls’ Day, symbolizing “beans of the dead”.
Soul wind:Some believed that eating broad beans released the soul wind through the body.
Symbolism related to resurrection and reincarnation:
Growth:The bean’s upward growth from the earth can be seen as a symbol of resurrection and spiritual awakening.
Rebirth:Some traditions view beans as symbols of reincarnation, where the seed contains a dormant soul waiting to be reborn.
Other symbolic meanings:
Good luck:In some traditions, like 17th and 18th century Britain, broad beans were associated with good luck, sometimes found in cakes like the Twelfth Night cake.
Royalty:In traditions like the Portuguese king cake, a bean inside the cake signifies the person who gets to provide the next cake.
Magic:Broad beans are also mentioned in folklore as having magical properties, such as warding off ghosts or even being connected to witches.
*See below
Research is a fabulous thing. I have just learned that Fava beans are Broad Beans. I had no idea, but I also discovered that spirituality-wise I am exactly a broad bean.
Broad beans are not considered universally spiritual.
Sometimes I suffer from ‘Soul Wind’
Will I ever be able to say the Lord’s Prayer without thinking? ” Our Fava”.
I have been enlightened.
*See below
*The Buddha with the fractured skull lives in our yard and has lived in my last three gardens.
She was a regular,uninjured, deity until a freak mini tornado in South London picked her up and tossed her against a garage wall. Her left Temporal bone was caved in. An earthly rather than spiritual injury.
Instantly she was turned from a peaceful piece of garden adornment into a unique planter. Her scars and missing bits of skull are covered by plants as she lays serenely in our yard.
Obviously I am an addicted ponderer. It is the beating heart of this blog and for me is both creative and endlessly fascinating.
Mulling on the other hand is a much less lightweight, pleasurable task. Mulling however is every bit as essential for me.
The two thinking techniques are closely related. I have always been a ponderer, I started young, in Reference Libraries. As I edged into adulthood, worries and problems could not always be pondered into a solution. Sometimes more serious and better targeted thinking is required. Mulling moved into my life.
Recently, away from this blog I have had to do a lot of mulling on the behalf of an organisation that I help to manage.
My Mulling team, confidentiality guaranteed.
All organisations, whatever their title are essentially about people. My recent mullings have taken me to places I never imagined I would need to explore. Despite the importance of mulling it uses much the same mental muscles as pondering. And for me the creative, familiar places where I choose to ponder have proved to be equally suitable for mulling.
1.Dull domestic tasks.
2.Dog walks
3. Yardening in the yard.
Staring at the laundry whilst thinking.
Just one stark difference between pondering and mulling.
Oh the loveliness of concatination, and having friends in High Places. This shot from a TV shows my friend Jenny, standing on the outside walkway of the lighthouse on Plymouth Hoe. A T.V crew getting a much better view of the goings on at the Hoe yesterday than I did. She watched the T.V in case she was on, and she snapped this pic.
She and I were chattering because I was suspicious that I had also caught her up a lighthouse in one of my meddled photographs. ( A sentence I never expected to write)
It is lovely when serendipity and concatination come together.
Then on my way home nature got all serendipitous. Look at this beautiful pansy making the most of a difficult location. Now just as I went to the Hoe and saw nothing yesterday,my pansy growing is not the most successful, slugs believe I am their artisan food producer. But leave a pansy out of my direct control and they manage very nicely just growing away in a drain.
What is your favorite holiday? Why is it your favorite?
An evening walk at a marina gave me the perfect image to describe a favourite type of holiday. And I am not a boaty person, but the name says it all.
Not just holidays though although I may have to google the word holiday.
Holidays are just an extension of ‘ moments’ or ‘taking a break’ Periods of life that differ significantly from the mundanity of the norm.
I had loads to do yesterday but the two big dog walks of the day gave me the chance to take two mini coddiwomples. The one in the boatyard and one in a city park.
The city park, courtesy of Victorian municipal planning gave me quite the tiny coddiwomple in bright April sunlight. From a shady English Woodland…
To the fiery colours of Far Eastern Azalea bushes, simply by turning my body 90 degrees.
Two unknown destinations when I set out on my mini coddiwomple. A tiny holiday from the days admin.
When I discovered Venn diagrams at Primary School I became a little obsessed and created intersectional circles as doodles when I should have been doing something more meaningful in class. I would create figures and shapes with intersecting circles filled with words and thoughts. This image popped up yesterday on a science website and it just makes me smile inside at my much, much younger nerdiness.
The more mature me loves the associated word, Intersectionality which is most commonly used to describe the less admirable facets of society.
But Venn diagrams and Intersectionality can also be a way of quickly identifying positive and joyous connections in the world and are really useful in decision making and design. A Venn diagram is fabulous for colour mixing too.
John Venn has a fabulous alternativeblue plaque which also makes me smile.
Wikimedia Commons
Which neatly brings me back to the first diagram.
A man who is an acknowledged Logical Thinker is also an Anglican Priest. That’s a whole new Venn diagram for me to ponder over.
Spring is not just ‘in the air’ she is on the ground and surfing the sea. My winterphobic bones are enthusiastic and ready to gad about a bit.
Two solid days of sunshine puts gallivanting back on the daily schedule.
Not that I was ever brave enough to quit my job and go gallivanting around the globe.
I am a small ‘g’ galivanter. Almost certainly because of my family circumstances.When I was at the peak big ‘G’ gallivanting stage, I needed to be responsible and stick around because my mum developed an untreatable neurological condition when she was in her mid 40’s.
As it turns out having to moderate youthful big ‘G’ gallivanting taught me to really max out on small ‘g’ gallivanting. A useful life skill I think.
A collection of Galanthus gadding or gallivanting about.
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