Last night was one of those times where things unexpectedly converge in the most lovely of ways, instead of their usual trick of trying to take you down.

I felt all kinds of peaceful. I’ve been listening to The Unthanks, they did the music for the recent Worzel Gummidge adaptation, to their Scarecrow Knows and the Crop Circle Waltz mainly. The boys sang along with me as I sang the scarecrow song at bedtime while I brushed Charley’s hair and Ben wrote in his diary, it really seems to have caught them. And then Erika and I danced in the kitchen with the Crop Circle Waltz on repeat. It dawned on me that I was stim dancing…. and to me, in the moment, it was almost hypnotic. Probably would have been if Erika hadn’t have been twirling around next to me. She wanted me to whisper-chant “the trees are the keys that spin upon the breeze” as she snuggled up to fall asleep on me, and I remembered the bedtime poems I’d collected from when I used to read poetry to the boys when they were younger as they fell asleep.

She loved the poems.

She fell asleep listening to me whisper poems by Sarojini Naidu, Eugene Field, and J W Foley. I felt happy. Poetry and singing and dancing… and magic.

I realised the other week that I need to start allowing myself to really notice the pretty things around me again, to take the time to enjoy them no matter how small they might seem. To stop being so caught up in a bigger picture that I have very little influence over and that often overwhelms me, and to stop and smell the roses. As it were.

I picked up some crochet for the first time in a long time, and allowed myself to enjoy time spent on it rather than feeling guilty for “running away”. Netflix and crochet. Good stuff!

We tidied up a few bits over the weekend (a sort of benefit I suppose of storms stopping us from doing outside jobs) including sorting out a single collection area for junk modelling resources! Turns out I had a quite a lot of stuff stashed away in various locations. Charley is SUPER happy though. Definitely a new Happy Place for him, this spot.

And Erika decided late one night that even though my birthday is at the other end of the year she was going to throw me a birthday party. Making her kitchen accessible like this has been so high on my list of Wants for a long time, because I knew how happy it would make her. And it makes me happy, seeing my children happy.

I noticed these crocuses on my way back in from picking up the bins that Storm Dennis had redistributed for me.

And Steve brought flowers home for me – these lilies were in them and now they have opened they rank up there with the amaryllis in how they are such absolutely glorious show-offs. I love them!

Lullaby

Sleepy little, creepy little goblins in the gloaming,
With their airy little, fairy little faces all aglow,
Winking little, blinking little brownies gone a-roaming,
Hear the rustling little, bustling little footfalls as they go.
Laughing little, chaffing little voices sweetly singing
In the dearest little, queerest little baby lullabies,
Creep! Creep! Creep!
Time to go to sleep!
Baby playing ‘possum with her big blue eyes!

Cricket in the thicket with the oddest little clatter
Sings his rattling little, prattling little, tattling little tune;
Fleet the feet of tiny stars go patter, patter, patter,
As they scamper from the heavens at the rising of the moon.
Beaming little, gleaming little fireflies go dreaming
To the dearest little, queerest little baby lullabies.
Creep! Creep! Creep!
Time to go to sleep!
Baby playing ‘possum with her big blue eyes!

Quaking little, shaking little voices all a-quiver
In the mushy little, rushy little, weedy, reedy bogs,
Droning little, moaning little chorus by the river,
In the croaking little, joking little cadence of the frogs.
Eerie little, cheery little glowworms in the gloaming
Where the clover heads like fairy little nightcaps rise,
Creep! Creep! Creep!
Time to go to sleep!
Baby playing ‘possum with her big blue eyes!

~J.W. Foley

Orkney Lullaby

A moonbeam floateth from the skies,
Whispering, “Heigho, my dearie!
I would spin a web before your eyes,-
A beautiful web of silver light,
Wherein is many a wondrous sight
Of a radiant garden leagues away,
Where the softly tinkling lilies sway,
And the snow-white lambkins are at play,–
Heigho, my dearie!”

A brownie stealeth from the vine
Singing, “Heigho, my dearie!
And will you hear this song of mine,–
A song of the land of murk and mist
Where bideth the bud the dew hath kist?
Then let the moonbeam’s web of light
Be spun before thee silvery white,
And I shall sing the livelong night,–
Heigho, my dearie!”

The night wind speedeth from the sea,
Murmuring, “Heigho, my dearie!
I bring a mariner’s prayer for thee;
So let the moonbeam veil thine eyes,
And the brownie sing thee lullabies;
But I shall rock thee to and fro,
Kissing the brow he loveth so,
And the prayer shall guard thy bed, I trow,–
Heigho, my dearie!”

~Eugene Field

Cradle Song

From groves of spice,
O’er fields of rice,
Athwart the lotus stream,
I bring for you
Aglint with dew
A little lovely dream.

Sweet, shut your eyes,
The wild fire-flies
Dance through the fairy neem;
From the poppy-bole
For you I stole
A little lovely dream.

Dear eyes, good night,
In golden light
The stars around you gleam;
On you I press
With soft caress
A little lovely dream.

~Sarojini Naidu

Song Of A Dream

Once in the dream of a night I stood,
Lone in the light of a magical wood,
Soul-deep in visions that poppy-like sprang;
And spirits of Truth were the birds that sang,
And spirits of Love were the stars that glowed,
And spirits of Peace were the streams that flowed
In that magical wood in the land of sleep.

Lone in the light of that magical grove
I felt the stars of the spirits of Love
Gather and gleam round my delicate youth
And I heard the song of the spirits of Truth;
To quench my longing I bent me low
By the streams of the spirits of Peace that flow
In that magical wood in the land of sleep.

~Sarojini Naidu