Thursday 17th March - can it be....?

 Can it be (sh, softly now) spring?

After yesterday's washout I didn't hold out much hope for today's weather, but today started well and turned out even better.

I managed some time in the garden heaving out weeds and cutting away at some shrubs; apparently one follows the rules of the three 'D's when at work with secateurs, removing anything

'dead'

'diseased'

'discoloured'

and also 'duplicated' if embarking upon larger trees and shrubs.

I have prepared two very large flowerpots ready for radish and lettuce seeds, and I have plastic cloches which will exactly fit over them so that should help them along. That's tomorrow's work. I'm also coming to conclusions about where to site the potato growbags, currently somewhere in the shed, so that the potatoes can go in. According to Huw Richards 'Veg In One Bed' that's the main target for March.

Today's Noah's Ark; an allegory on the banks of the Nile. Alright I know, it's a crocodile. Actually, looking up the scripture verse, it's a monster!

'This is what the Sovereign LORD says: “'I am against you, Pharaoh king of Egypt, you great monster lying among your streams.'

We had to study Sheridan's play 'The Rivals' at school, and Mrs Malaprop, a character in the play, describes someone as being 'as headstrong as an allegory on the banks of the Nile'. So that's what popped into my head when I saw the picture.

How doth the little crocodile

Improve his shining tail
And pour the waters of the Nile
On every golden scale!

How cheerfully he seems to grin
How neatly spreads his claws,
And welcomes little fishes in
With gently smiling jaws!

I used to teach a rather good jazzy setting of this poem when I was working as a primary school class music teacher. Not this one; which is also very good. I don't think I can find the version I taught.

The crocodile poem comes from 'Alice in Wonderland', when Alice discovered that she could no longer remember the poems that she had learned. Here is the original, by Isaac Watts

How doth the little busy bee
Improve each shining hour,
And gather honey all the day
From every opening flower!

How skilfully she builds her cell!
How neat she spreads the wax!
And labours hard to store it well
With the sweet food she makes.

In works of labour or of skill,
I would be busy too;
For Satan finds some mischief still
For idle hands to do.

In books, or work, or healthful play,
Let my first years be passed,
That I may give for every day

Some good account at last.