tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21968349.post7908773351626981900..comments2023-10-30T12:01:42.235+00:00Comments on my (elastic) gap year: Ploughingapprenticehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13784785172285984036noreply@blogger.comBlogger7125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21968349.post-49620772670450588872008-11-29T09:35:00.000+00:002008-11-29T09:35:00.000+00:00Vivid and evocative - the more so for its brevity....Vivid and evocative - the more so for its brevity.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21968349.post-61889522774703645492008-11-28T21:37:00.000+00:002008-11-28T21:37:00.000+00:00I love your poem and the Edward Thomas one.We don'...I love your poem and the Edward Thomas one.<BR/><BR/>We don't get rooks here either, just this little corner of France that doesn't, I don't know why, perhaps it's what they do to the trees. I miss them, but the seagulls are Ladybird-Book-pretty over the ploughed soil.Lucyhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09764296105901909328noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21968349.post-81497650937159259262008-11-28T17:43:00.000+00:002008-11-28T17:43:00.000+00:00Thanks Kay. We get seagulls too, black and white l...Thanks Kay. We get seagulls too, black and white like salt and pepper.apprenticehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13784785172285984036noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21968349.post-21971024067950830882008-11-27T04:55:00.000+00:002008-11-27T04:55:00.000+00:00Being a farmer's daughter and as you have probably...Being a farmer's daughter and as you have probably noticed through my poetry, farming is in my blood. Words like harrowing and ploughing resonate with me ... we don't have rooks, but seagulls follow the plough. A lovely wee poem and the bookmark photo is amazing!Kay Cookehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01791873464409271216noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21968349.post-17023536359291346932008-11-25T18:29:00.000+00:002008-11-25T18:29:00.000+00:00PS, yes I saw that piece. They are very clever bir...PS, yes I saw that piece. They are very clever birds, I read Mark Cocker's book on Corvids and the whole crow family are very interesting. Jo Gibson has a lovely wee poem about a crow.apprenticehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13784785172285984036noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21968349.post-5516257574825757592008-11-25T18:28:00.000+00:002008-11-25T18:28:00.000+00:00this one?As the Team's Head-BrassAs the team's hea...this one?<BR/><BR/>As the Team's Head-Brass<BR/>As the team's head-brass flashed out on the turn<BR/>The lovers disappeared into the wood.<BR/>I sat among the boughs of the fallen elm<BR/>That strewed the angle of the fallow, and<BR/>Watched the plough narrowing a yellow square<BR/>Of charlock. Every time the horses turned<BR/>Instead of treading me down, the ploughman leaned<BR/>Upon the handles to say or ask a word,<BR/>About the weather, next about the war.<BR/>Scraping the share he faced towards the wood,<BR/>And screwed along the furrow till the brass flashed<BR/>Once more.<BR/><BR/>The blizzard felled the elm whose crest<BR/>I sat in, by a woodpecker's round hole,<BR/>The ploughman said. "When will they take it away?"<BR/>"When the war's over." So the talk began-–<BR/>One minute and an interval of ten,<BR/>A minute more and the same interval.<BR/>"Have you been out?" "No." "And don't want to, perhaps?"<BR/>"If I could only come back again, I should.<BR/>I could spare an arm, I shouldn't want to lose<BR/>A leg. If I should lose my head, why, so,<BR/>I should want nothing more. . . Have many gone<BR/>From here?" "Yes." "Many lost?" 'Yes, a good few.<BR/>Only two teams work on the farm this year.<BR/>One of my mates is dead. The second day<BR/>In France they killed him. It was back in March,<BR/>The very night of the blizzard, too. Now if<BR/>He had stayed here we should have moved the tree."<BR/>"And I should not have sat here. Everything<BR/>Would have been different. For it would have been<BR/>Another world." "Ay, and a better, though<BR/>If we could see all all might seem good." Then<BR/>The lovers came out of the wood again:<BR/>The horses started and for the last time<BR/>I watched the clods crumble and topple over<BR/>After the ploughshare and the stumbling team.<BR/><BR/><BR/>The First World War was the beginning of the end for so many men being on the land, as so few came back to the work.apprenticehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13784785172285984036noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21968349.post-73550883491987233432008-11-25T18:10:00.000+00:002008-11-25T18:10:00.000+00:00When I think of ploughing, I think of As the team'...When I think of ploughing, I think of As the team's brass head... by Edward Thomas?<BR/><BR/>I like your rooks, though. Funny birds them, did you see the piece about them on Autumn watch: they are canny buggers.Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06280161801824435219noreply@blogger.com