The Circle of Life.

Life goes on.

Thank you for the kind comments on last week's entry.

Last Saturday morning I was writing about the loss of our dog Harper. Then, in the afternoon, I went to collect my ‘Rescue Battery Hen’ who is now bearing the name Isabella, after my grandaughter.

I got to choose her from about 30 birds that were there and she stood out immediately. She was quite fluffy and much paler than the other birds. She also had the least feathers. I had been warned that they don’t have many feathers, someone even said they looked like ‘Oven Ready’. I was pleasantly surprised, this batch was quite well covered, apart from the one I chose and even she wasn’t too naked.

I saw her and thought that’s the one, then my head said no, there are better looking birds than her. I tried to make myself pick another but couldn’t do it, so baldy came home with me.

I’m going to keep an online diary, from Isabella’s point of view, describing how she settles in (or not). Don’t know how long I will keep it up but I just felt it might be best kept separate from my weekly Journal.

Isabella's Diary

Well, a new year has started and already January is nearly halfway through. I always make New Year’s Resolutions and never keep them. It occurred to me that maybe I was doing something wrong. So this year I have a change of plan.

In 2007 I resolve to:-

Not lose any weight.

Drink more than the recommend amount of wine per week.

Eat chocolate whenever I feel like it .

Not do any exercise.

Not clean my car for a whole year.

Spend money like it’s going out of fashion.

Grow old disgracefully.

Then the end of the year won’t be so upsetting as I will probably have achieved most of these things and I won’t be suffering the usual sense of failure.

My closet Pagan side had an airing on Saturday evening. Mike and I went to the farm in Gloucestershire where his family were farming in the first half of the 1800’s.

The current owner held a Wassail, traditionally held on 12th Night but far pre dates the Christian religion. I love the feeling of being attuned with Mother Earth in these events. It’s not involving any sort of worship of Pagan Gods, just a demonstration of love of nature and honouring the miracle of regrowth each year.

We arrived at the farm at 7.30pm and were welcomed with mulled cider and two troupes of Morris Dancers and then we went to the orchard where 12 bonfires had been set around a large old apple tree.

There was a gibbet type construction near the tree, hung with a faggot (I think it was called, a bundle of sticks) which represented the old year. That was set alight and as the flames of that were dying the 12 fires were lit (representing the 12 months of the new year). Cider was then poured onto the ground around the tree, thereby returning the juice to the tree and little pieces of toast, dipped in cider, were hung on some of the branches.

We sang the Gloucestershire Wassail Song and the Wassail Bowl was brought around for everyone to drink from. At which time you were supposed to make a wish. Then we all walked around the tree, three times, whilst musicians played. I say walked, after all the rain earlier in the day, I think slithered and slipped was a better description.

As usual I took lots of photos mostly just by natural light, as the flash killed the atmosphere, the best are above.

The house is quiet without Harper but we do not intend to get another dog for a while. Maybe not until we move from this house when Mike retires properly.

Mike read my entry about Harper last week and said, “Thanks, I’ll never be able to play Seasons in The Sun” again. That’s where the title was taken from.

Hello to Nick, another of my far flung family, who has started reading my Journal. Nice to hear from you. I can see that in future years we will probably all meet up in a Chat Room, rather than actually going to the Family Picnic. In fact, if we all had Web cams, we could set up a virtual picnic.

My niece Emma is in New Zealand now, she will be home next month, I can’t believe the year went so quickly. Where does the time go? As Emma’s grandfather once said, when my sister said “Soon be Summer” He came back with the cheery. “Soon be Winter, soon be dead”

So on that happy note, I think I will go and follow some of my New Year’s Resolutions…….. Pass me the chocolates please!