The Country Celebrant and The Country Carer

The Country Celebrant: Memorials : I wrote this poem in memory of a dear friend and colleague who lost her battle with cancer a year ago.  I find writing hugely therapeutic and I hope that this poem might strike a cord with you. The Bench ~ by Cindy Groves  Today I'll sit and think of you Tomorrow I may do so too Today I'll hear your laugh again Tomorrow it will be the same If every day could be the last and all the times we had were past Then I would be so happy, free to know that you were close to me Around the corner, down the lane across the meadow, here again The bench would be our meeting spot to laugh and cry and share a lot A place to sit and share a smile to talk and listen, quiet a while A place to cry that you are gone but knowing you has made me strong I will remember and I'll sing about the times we did that thing The silly, mad and happy times the made up games and stupid rhymes The flowers, the paint, th...

The Country Celebrant  So here we are, the middle of January already; the United Kingdom has been buffeted by a series of storms that have swelled the rivers until they burst, leaving people with a deluge of mud and silt and detritus to clear away. We have lost icons of the stage and film and on a personal level we have, undoubtedly, lost people who mean the world to us; ordinary people who made no momentous contribution to the world but who shaped us by the very fact that we knew them. I was told the story of a cowman who taught a child to care for calves, to rear those orphaned, by hand - dipping her hand into a bucket of warm milk and allowing the calf to suck her fingers until it got the hang of how to drink.     I remember doing that as a child, I remember the rasp of the tongue on my fingers and the anticipation of a bite.  A calf does not bite, he does not have the teeth to do so. I am preparing for a new journey in my life; I have one son living on the ...