all a bit vague, really

It’s been one of those weeks. A week when it’s been impossible to settle to get anything done. What with the state of the States, the continued looming menace of Brexit, and what the New York Times referred to as “England’s spotty lockdown”, the uncertainty seems almost palpable.

Clients are unwilling to make decisions and there’s a general feeling of the world being on pause, waiting for other people to move before we see where the opportunities are and where we should direct our energies.
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the “p” word

“Ah… the ‘p’ word,” said my friend Claire, yesterday, which seems a good point from which to start today’s blog post. I wonder what that phrase meant to you when you read the title.

Perhaps, because it was juxtaposed with a photo, you thought I meant pears. If so, you probably wondered why they would be unmentionable except by initial. Certainly we weren’t talking about pears or fruit of any kind yesterday. But as I had the photo from a recent walk in the park, it seemed as good a picture as any from which to start.
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a year later

There are many flowers in the church garden at the moment: still lots of snowdrops, daffodils beginning to come into bloom, and a few pale primroses. Perhaps loveliest of all are the beautiful mauve crocuses photographed here.

Almost excactly a year ago, I wrote about the crocuses in the post poetry and prayer, saying that they reminded me of hands folded in prayer or raised in gratitude to receive the gifts bestowed on the one who prays.
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poetry and prayer

In the walled garden by the church, early crocuses are in flower.

[…] Under the trees
a crocus campfire kindles.

Yes, the half-closed flowers remind me of flames. But they also remind me of praying hands, though when they open more fully, it’s more as if the petals were spread wide to receive whatever alms or largess the prayers have prompted.
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