tempus fugit

By ceridwen

A friendly visit

It's been one of those days, a carousel of comings and goings with guests and visitors both planned and unplanned, old acquaintances dropping in on the off chance, two deliveries (logs and a bed, not babies!), the district nurse on a routine call, cars and vans and campers in and out of the yard all day - oh, and a couple of my son's old mates, seen here with alfresco coffee.

At the same time I've been shopping and cooking meals and clearing up and writing cheques and answering the phone... and now my head is spinning with it all. Normally I live here alone apart from the animals so a social life of this intensity is a rare event. But friendship and contact with others are a good thing and worth the time they take. I happened upon a poem by Robert Frost which captures the essence of that. It's called A Time to Talk.

When a friend calls to me from the road
And slows his horse to a meaning walk,
I don't stand still and look around
On all the hills I haven't hoed,
And shout from where I am, What is it?
No, not as there is a time to talk.
I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground,
Blade-end up and five feet tall,
And plod: I go up to the stone wall
For a friendly visit.

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