Monday, January 20, 2020

Soda Bread

21st January 2020

I have just read that chocolate ( the dark stuff mind) is good for us. The article tells me one square a day can be really  beneficial to my heart, to my mental health and to my brain among other things. Well, I'd like to know how much better two squares would be and would a whole bar add years to my life.
Ah, no, it's just the one little square that has the benefits . Any more could possibly be harmful.
I don't know about you, but I can't eat  just one square from a bar of chocolate. Much too much temptation involved.

Image result for pictures of irish soda bread

Soda Bread

Warm soda bread sits
In the middle of the table, a round loaf,
a cross creased into it's middle.
The  familiar, sweet, smell, settles
Somewhere in our shared  history,
Buried like gold, In the mists of my memory.
Just Nan and I, bridging generations, 
her soft look wraps me in its love.
Between us the loaf waits on the bread board.
In a white china dish, the butter - kerrigold.
Nothing else would do. 
And a  pot of tea, brewing, under a knitted cosy,
which I knitted in green and red stripes, for her.
Milk too, full cream, fresh from the dairy, in the blue jug.
And a pot of Mrs O'Neil's Jam, made from her own blackcurrants.
Nan cuts the bread into two thick slices
I take one, a  sliver of my grandma
break it in half, place on my plate, gently
I carve wedges of butter into slender slabs 
 I spread each evenly right to the edges
And to finish , a smear of Jam
I watch nan do the same - It is our communion


20th January 2020

Well that's 2020 written for the  first time on the blog.

The year has started off slowly as we have been recovering from 
all the visiting we did over the Christmas.
 I think we're nearly there now.
 Nearly back to normal. 
Though what is normal?
And do I want it?
Is it best to keep well away from normal?
These questions don't keep me awake at night,
but they are floating about in that grey matter
where important stuff goes on.

First today I have an acrostic - January


Just look up, up at that sky with grey clouds edged by 
Almond flecks. And starlings,  black,  swooping
Now this way, now that, seemingly 
Unaware of the bitter cold of this winter evening.  They
Arrive in their flocks, perform their murmations, give us a 
Regal  show. Their  elegant  dance makes this
January day more bearable

 Image result for a free picture of starlings in murmuration

What makes me feel warm inside?
I think of my grandmother.
It's the days leading up to Christmas.
She sits in front of  the range -for warmth
She picks up a turf sod lying in the basket
To feed the oven
I help her, pick up my own lump of turf
Turf that Uncle Timmy dug up the previous autumn
It feels hairy to the touch
not like the factory produced brickets, i think.
We take turns, my nan and I, to place a sod in the fire
without words we feed our story, make it rich.
The flames give a glow to her - already pink cheeks
When the roar tells us "enough for now",
She sits back, smiles, and for while, tells stories or tales of family
Long ago , linking the threads of shared Ancestors
Who brought us to this day.

                                  Image result for pictures of irish turf