correspondence

I’m sifting through a pile of paper, most of it fit for the recycling only! Are we a correspondence clergy?  Fit only for pushing pieces of paper here and there?  As I sift, a number of emails make their presence known and the paper is forgotten for a while.  Messages fly backwards and forwards days quicker than their paper counterparts.  Meanwhile, in honour of all things that take their time, the apple butter evaporates slowly in the Aga, the timer reminding me to stir it every half hour.  This tell tale beep also reminds me that I was sifting the paper.  Two hours so far, four trips to stir, and half a blue recycling bag full.  It is damp and dreary outside, but perhaps a wander up the road in an hour or so will lift the mood!  ‘The Road Home’ slips out from between a few envelopes and my ears are reminded that the post brings good things as well as mundane!

Arrivals

Just in time,

I have almost finished clearing the study of clutter, when what pops through the door but two large packages, one an unexpected gift – an Epiphany present – thanks John, how did you know I had been meaning to get one of those for a while??

And

two, the collected works of Bernadette Farrell.  Seeing as one of her hymns went down so well on Sunday I ordered the rest of the collection of books…

Bernadette Farrell music books

Music for Transformation

Musically, I know what I like, I can’t often name the artist or even the song title, let alone remember any lyrics.  This is probably why when reading the latest copy of Resurgence with Annie Lennox as guest editor I was happily surprised to read some lyrics to a song I have invariably hummed along to:  Big Yellow Taxi written by Joni Mitchell

They paved paradise

and put up a parking lot

With a pink hotel, a boutique

And a swinging hot spot

Don’t it always seem to go

That you don’t know what you’ve got

Till it’s gone

They paved paradise

And put up a parking lot.