Saturday, 4 May 2013

52 Weeks of Happy 2/52: Dandelions and Butterflies

So here's my second lot of 52 Weeks of Happy.  I'm in a bit of a muddle about this numbering business.  Last week I decided to go along with the numbering I'd seen on another blog assuming that everyone was doing the same thing and that it was the 30th week the idea had been going.  But have seen another one with a different number and so I'm doing my own. This is my second week on happies and so 2/52 it is.

1. Butterflies. Loads of them - more than I saw the whole of last year.  I've spent all week chasing them with my camera/phone.  They seem to be attracted to the dandelions and the purple dead nettles which line the edge of dog walk field  Failed to get a photo as every time I crept up to a glorious peacock settled on a dandelion it flew away.  Or the dog scared it off. So here's the picture of where they were before they moved!

2. Dandelions on the lawn: I have spent money on chemicals trying to zap them and last year on getting someone to physically remove them with a knife.  But they're back!  So this year have decided to live with them and enjoy their yellow beauty.  And they attract the butterflies.

3. My daughter singing loudly along to music as she gets ready in the morning.  Currently her favourite also features butterflies. It's by Paramore and she tells me it's called 'Still into You' and not 'Butterfly' as I called it.  I've heard it about 50 times this week...don't mind really.  Just love to see her happy.

 4. A reminder of why I love teaching.  A student, inspired by the poems we'd studied by Carol Ann Duffy, had bought a copy of her Love Poems and brought it to show me.  Asked me to read one.  Wasn't sure her classmates would want this -it was during a break,  but they did.  Read 'Valentine'.  Silence fell. Loved it.

Valentine by Carol Ann Duffy
Not a red rose or a satin heart.

I give you an onion.
It is a moon wrapped in brown paper.
It promises light
like the careful undressing of love.

It will blind you with tears
like a lover.
It will make your reflection
a wobbling photo of grief.

I am trying to be truthful.

Not a cute card or a kissogram.

I give you an onion.
Its fierce kiss will stay on your lips,
possessive and faithful
as we are,
for as long as we are.

Take it.
Its platinum loops shrink to a wedding-ring,
if you like.

Its scent will cling to your fingers,
cling to your knife. 
(Perhaps not the best choice of poem on reflection - a rather jaded view of love)

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