Easter 2020

With each subsequent year I get the feeling at Easter that we are celebrating a dying god reborn with the emergence of spring. That is to say, the cyclic nature of life. Maybe I am just becoming a pagan.gill christ At any rate, the weather in this part of Portugal is rather wet right now. Even if visitors weren’t forbidden to come on account of coronavirus, they wouldn’t have much joy by way of sun-worshipping on the beaches. Not that nature minds. The rain and increasing heat means that seeds we planted a short while ago – beans and peas, lettuce and spinach, radishes and artichokes – are all working their way up from the soil into the light. Meanwhile, back in Bucks you may find this carving made by a pupil of Eric Gill hanging high and hidden in the beech forest near Hughenden Valley.

NOVELS

A Gardener’s Song

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“In the Garden” lyrics by Van morrison

After a summer shower when I saw you standing
In the garden wet with rain

You wiped the teardrops from your eye in sorrow
As we watched the petals fall down to the ground
And as I sat beside you I felt the
Great sadness that day in the garden

And then one day you came back home
You were a creature all in rapture
You had the key to your soul
And you did open that day you came back to the garden

The olden summer breeze was blowing on your face
The light of God was shining on your countenance divine
And you were a violet colour as you
Sat beside your father and your mother in the garden

The summer breeze was blowing on your face
Within your violet you treasure your summery words
And as the shiver from my neck down to my spine
Ignited me in daylight and nature in the garden

And you went into a trance
Your childlike vision became so fine
And we heard the bells inside the church
We loved so much
And felt the presence of the youth of
Eternal summers in the garden

And as it touched your cheeks so lightly
Born again you were and blushed
And we touched each other lightly
And we felt the presence of the Christ
Within in our hearts
In the garden

And I turned to you and I said
No guru, no method, no teacher
Just you and I and nature
And the father in the garden

Listen no guru, no method, no teacher
Just you and I and nature
And the Father and the
Son and the Holy Ghost
In the garden, wet with rain
No guru, no method, no teacher
Just you and I and nature and the Father
And the Son and the Holy Ghost
In the garden, in the garden, wet with rain

No guru, no method, no teacher
Just you and I and nature
And the Father in the garden

Novels by Glyn F Ridgley

Valley Independent Publishing

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In the Thrall of the Mountain Thing

All gardens are cosmic (relying on Helios for warmth, while many gardener’s refer to an almanac for the lunar cycles when planting). Ours is especially so because it is at the top of a village which is itself at the top of a mountain, so that the cosmic rays are less mitigated than those nearer sea-level. The soil is particularly fine, friable and therefore full of molecular space. Which is probably why we had some unexpected visitors coinciding with the clocks going forward. As a result of a concomitant power-outage and gravity field diminution, the video recorder failed to operate and only still images were obtained. Still, these were pretty impressive, as you can see.

Hawkwind HotMG
The view from our garden yesterday evening
Hawkwind - Hall of the Mountain Grill (Front)
This is what landed
hawkwind mofu image
This is what emerged

GLYN F RIDGLEY

Valley Independent Publishing / Daffodil (VIP)

hawkwind sr alternative
This is the lasered image we witnessed.
stacia priestess
This was the High Priestess

GLYN F RIDGLEY

Valley Independent Publishing / Daffodil (VIP)

hawkwind man image
And this appeared in the sky!

We are now in lockdown and these images are our only communication