No time to turn at Beauty’s Glance, and watch her feet, how they can dance..


What is this life if, full of care,

We have no time to stand and stare.

No time to stand beneath the boughs

And stare as long as sheep or cows.

No time to see, when woods we pass,

Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.

No time to see, in broad daylight,

Streams full of stars, like skies at night.

No time to turn at Beauty’s glance,

And watch her feet, how they can dance.

No time to wait till her mouth can

Enrich that smile her eyes began.

A poor life this if, full of care,

We have no time to stand and stare.


W.H. Davis


I find it hard just to sit in my garden. As soon as I go out there, there is something I feel the urge to do – to water, to weed, to check for pests, to delight over the latest buds, to potter in the shed, to prune..But it’s never a chore to me, I love every minute spent out there.

My old Dad was always in his garden, but he spent half the time moaning about how much there was to do out there… So he planted loads of tomato plants, and moaned that they needed watering all the time, he bought ridiculous numbers of plug plants and complained about the amount of time it took to prick them out and nurture them as bedding plants, and the lawn always needed cutting and he had to ruthlessly root out the untidy wild plants that appeared (bluebells and snowdrops he particularly disliked)

I don’t think I ever saw him sit back in his deckchair, pat himself on the back and just look at the garden, and go “Wow, doesn’t that look amazing”.


So I’m trying to make sure I do find the time, and even if I don’t actually sit still for long, I do stand and stare – and wonder about how amazing nature is. My garden, once a sterile tidy strip of lawn, is now visited by birds, bees, butterflies, hoverflies, ladybirds (and a few unwelcome bugs too!). If you can’t stop to smell the honeysuckle and lavender, and pick a few sweet peas on the way through, what is the point?

RIP Dad 1928-2015




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