The humble Lily of the Valley — el humilde Lirio del Valle

Hi folks! I hope you are keeping well…

¡Hola amigos! Espero que estéis bien…

In my last blog I wrote about one of my favourite flowers that I have been able to enjoy during my stay here in London — the beautiful and delicate forget-me-not. However, there is also another one of my favourites that is just beginning to unfurl its tiny head from amongst its enveloping green leaves — and that is the lily-of-the-valley.

En mi último blog escribí sobre una de mis flores favoritas, que he podido disfrutar durante mi estancia aquí en Londres — el hermoso y delicado nomeolvides. Sin embargo, también hay otro de mis favoritos que está empezando a asomar su pequeña cabeza entre sus envolventes hojas verdes, y ese es el lirio del valle.

Below are a couple of photos that I took (using my Samsung again, so please be patient with my photography!).

A continuación hay un par de fotos que tomé (usando mi Samsung de nuevo, así que ¡por favor sea paciente con mi fotografía!).

And here is a lovely poem about the lily of the valley. It was written by the sisters, Jane and Ann Taylor. (The former Taylor also wrote ‘Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star…’).

Y aquí hay un bonito poema sobre el lirio del valle. Fue escrito por las hermanas, Jane y Ann Taylor. (Ann escribió también ¿Estrellita Dónde Estás?)

THE LILY OF THE VALLEY

Come, my love, and do not spurn

From a little flower to learn.

See the lily on the bed

Hanging down its modest head;

While it scarcely can be seen,

Folded in its leaf of green.

Yet we love the lily well

For its sweet and pleasant smell

And would rather call it ours,

Than full many gayer flowers.

Pretty lilies seem to be

Emblems of humility.

Come my love, and do not spurn

From a little flower to learn.

Let your temper be as sweet

As the lily at your feet;

Be as gentle, be as mild,

Be a modest, simple child.

EL LIRIO DEL VALLE

Ven, mi amor, y no te desprecies

De una pequeña flor, para aprender.

Mira el lirio en el arriate,

Inclinando su modesta cabeza;

Aunque apenas se la puede ver,

Doblado en su hoja de verde…

Sin embargo, nos encanta el lirio bien

Por su olor dulce y agradable

Y preferiría llamarlo nuestro,

Que por completo muchas flores más alegres.

Los lirios bonitos parecen ser

Emblemas de la humildad.

Ven mi amor, y no te desprecies

De una pequeña flor para aprender.

Deja que tu temperamento sea tan dulce

Como el lirio a tus pies;

Sé tan gentil, sé tan suave,

Sé un niño modesto y sencillo.

(Bueno, no es exactamente lo mismo en español porque no tiene la misma rima…)

The two sisters, Jane (23 September 1783 London) – 13 April 1824) and Ann Taylor

Sadly, Jane Taylor died on 13 April 1824 of breast cancer at the age of 40 — her mind was still «teeming with unfulfilled projects».

Arriba, las dos hermanas, Jane y Ann Taylor. Desgraciadamente, Jane murió el 13 de abril de 1824 de cáncer de mama a la edad de 40 años — su mente todavía estaba «llena de proyectos no cumplidos».

Although the lily of the valley is a tiny little flower there is a lot to learn from it. The poem showcases humility and teaches us that we should learn to be humble like a lily. The head of the flower hangs modestly and is covered by the surrounding green, not much is seen. It is loved by all.

Aunque el lirio del valle es una pequeña flor, hay mucho que aprender de él. El poema muestra humildad y nos enseña que debemos aprender a ser humildes como un lirio. La cabeza de la flor cuelga modestamente y está cubierta por el verde circundante, no se ve mucho. Es amado por todos.

This picture is taken from Flower Fairies book, written and illustrated by Cicely Mary Barker. (See my last blog for her brief bio.)

Esta foto está tomada del libro Las Hadas de las Flores, escrito e ilustrado por Cicely Mary Barker. (Ver mi último blog para su breve biografía.)

The lily of the valley is the flower for those born in May.

El lirio del valle es la flor para los nacidos en mayo.

The fragrant white flowers are often associated with traditional feminine values such as motherhood, purity, chastity and sweetness.

Las fragantes flores blancas se asocian a menudo con los valores femeninos tradicionales como la maternidad, la pureza, la castidad y la dulzura.

The lily of the valley is also seen as a symbol of humility and a sign of Christ’s second coming.

El lirio del valle simboliza humildad y también la segunda venida de Cristo.

Well, that’s all for now.

Thank you for visiting — comments are always welcome.

Take care and bye for now xxx

Pues… eso es todo por ahora.

Gracias por visitar – vuestros comentarios son siempre bienvenidos.

Cuidaros y hasta pronto xxx

Forget-me-not! — ¡Nomeolvides!

Hi folks! I hope this finds you well.

¡Hola amigos! Espero que estéis bien.

I just wanted to share with you a couple of photos of one of my favourite flowers — the humble but very beautiful forget-me-not. I am lucky that their flowering has coincided with my stay here in England, as is the case too of other of my favourites, such as the bluebells, lily-of-the-valley, and cherry and apple blossoms. The daffodils have finished now, but they also put on a fine show for me!

Quería simplemente compartir con vosotros un par de fotos de una de mis flores favoritas – la humilde pero muy hermosa nomeolvides. Tengo la suerte de que su floración haya coincidido con mi estancia aquí en Inglaterra, y con otros de mis favoritos, como las campanillas, el lirio del valle y las flores de cerezo y manzana: los narcisos ya han terminado, ¡pero también pusieron un buen espectáculo para mí!

Apple tree in flower — **¡el manzano en flor!**

**Flags around the cherry tree in support of Ukraine** — ***Banderas alrededor del cerezo en apoyo de Ucrania***

Please excuse my poor Samsung photography: I never plan on taking photos, they somehow just happen, and they are a poor comparison to the stunning photography of others, such as Vova Zinger’s photo blog

Por favor, disculpe mi pobre fotografía (usando mi Samsung), es que nunca planeo tomar fotos, pero de alguna manera u otra, sucede. Son una mala comparación con la impresionante fotografía de otras personas, como de Vova Zinger y su blog de fotos

Anyway, the flowers of the forget-me-nots (Myosotis sylvatica) are easy to press. I used to press them and then use them in making pictures or greeting cards and bookmarks… (hmmm… that’s a good idea for my online Etsy shop which is looking quite sparse right now…). However, in retrospect, I don’t think I want to dice with trying to smuggle hand-picked forget-me-nots past the border police in the airport, as this would be illegal.

Las flores de las Nomeolvides (Myosotis sylvatica) son fáciles de prensar. Yo solía prensarlos y luego utilizarlos en dibujos, tarjetas de felicitación y marcadores… (hmmm… eso es una buena idea para mi tienda online Etsy shop que se ve bastante escasa en este momento…). Sin embargo, en retrospectiva, no creo que quiero pasar como contrabando con mis Nomeolvides delante de la policía fronteriza en el aeropuerto, ya que esto sería ilegal.

Well, apart from being beautiful in all their powder-blue and delicate yellow simplicity, they also have an interesting symbology, representing true love and respect. When you give someone these tiny blooms, it represents a promise that you will always remember them and will keep them in your thoughts. They are also considered a symbol of fidelity and faithfulness (but I’m not too bothered about this last one!)

Además de ser hermosas vestidas en azul bebé y amarillo delicado, las Nomeolvides también tienen una interesante simbología: representan el verdadero amor y respeto. Cuando le das a alguien estas pequeñas flores, significa que siempre le recordarás y le mantendrás en tus pensamientos. También son considerados un símbolo de fidelidad y lealtad (¡pero no estoy demasiado preocupado por este último!)

Additionally, they symbolise different things in various countries, such as:

In Newfoundland, they represent those who fell in World War I.
In Armenia, it’s a symbol for the Armenian Genocide Centennial.
It’s the symbol for International Missing Children’s Day.
The Alzheimer’s Society uses forget-me-nots as a symbol for memory loss and to raise awareness for the disease.

(Please note: I have taken the above from the Farmers’ Almanac, and the author: Amber Kanuckel)

Además, simbolizan cosas diferentes en varios países, tales como:

• En Terranova, representan a los que cayeron en la Primera Guerra Mundial.

• En Armenia, es un símbolo del centenario del genocidio armenio.

• Es el símbolo del Día Internacional de los Niños Desaparecidos.

• La Alzheimer’s Society utiliza la Nomeolvides como símbolo para la pérdida de memoria y para crear conciencia sobre la enfermedad.

(Del Almanaque de los Agricultores, artículo de Amber Kanuckel)

Also, please see the above site for some decent photography of forget-me-nots, such as the following photo which I have borrowed from them (I suppose that’s alright as I am advertising their site at the same time?!):

También, vea por favor el sitio antedicho para una fotografía decente de la Nomeolvides, tal como la foto siguiente que he tomado prestada del mismo artículo (supongo que está bien copiarlo, pues estoy anunciando su sitio al mismo tiempo?!):

Definitely not my photography, but taken from the ***Farmer’s Almanac*** (see link above) **Definitivamente no es mi foto, pero tomado del Almanaque del Granjero (ver enlace arriba)**

But I wouldn’t like to go without finishing with a poem:

Pero no me gustaría ir sin terminar con un poema:

The Forget-Me-Not Fairy — Cicely Mary Barker

Where do fairy babies lie
Till they’re old enough to fly?
Here’s a likely place, I think,
’Mid these flowers, blue and pink,
(Pink for girls and blue for boys:
Pretty things for babies’ toys!)
Let us peep now, gently. Why,
Fairy baby, here you lie!

Kicking there, with no one by,
Baby dear, how good you lie!
All alone, but O, you’re not—
You could never be—forgot!
O how glad I am I’ve found you,
With Forget-me-nots around you,
Blue, the colour of the sky!
Fairy baby, Hushaby!

El hada de la Nomeolivedes- Cicely Mary Barker

Hada bebé, Hushaby!

¿Dónde están los bebés de hadas

¿Hasta que tengan edad para volar?

Aquí hay un lugar probable, creo,

En medio de estas flores, azules y rosas,

(Rosa para niñas y azul para niños:

¡Cosas bonitas para juguetes de bebés! )

Echemos un vistazo ahora, suavemente. ¿Por qué,

¡Hada bebé, aquí duermes!

Pateando allí, sin nadie,

Cariño, ¡qué bien duermes!

Solo, pero O, no estás

¡Nunca se te olvidará!

¡Qué contento estoy de haberte encontrado,

Con Nomeolvides a tu alrededor,

¡Azul, el color del cielo!

Hada bebé, Hushaby!

The above picture and poem are taken from Flower Fairies (which everyone should have!) by Cicely Mary Barker (28 June 1895 – 16 February 1973).

La imagen y el poema anteriores están cogidos del libro Flower Fairies — Hadas de las Flores (que todos deberían tener) de Cicely Mary Barker (28 de junio de 1895 – 16 de febrero de 1973).

The beautiful and enormously talented **Cicely Mary Barker** (Wiki)

Cicely Mary Barker was an English illustrator best known for a series of fantasy illustrations depicting fairies and flowers. She was a devout Anglican and donated her artworks to Christian fundraisers and missionary organisations; she also wrote and illustrated many religious books, such as The Children’s Book of Hymns (1929), He Leadeth Me (1933), The Feeding of the Five Thousand (1929), The Parable of the Great Supper (1934) and many more. For more on this fascinating, extremely talented and inspirational lady, see on this link.

Cicely Mary Barker fue una ilustradora inglesa conocida por una serie de ilustraciones de fantasía que representan hadas y flores. Fue una anglicana devota y donó sus obras de arte a recaudadores de fondos cristianos y organizaciones misioneras; también escribió e ilustró muchos libros religiosos, como El libro de himnos para niños (1929), Me dirige (1933), La alimentación de los cinco mil (1929), La parábola de la Gran Cena (1934) y muchos más. Para más información sobre esta fascinante, extremadamente talentosa e inspiradora dama, ver en este enlace.

Thank you for reading! As usual, your comments are always welcome, I love to hear from you.

Bye for now — take care xxx

¡Gracias por leerme! Como siempre, tus comentarios son siempre bienvenidos, me encanta hablar con vosotros.

Adiós por ahora – cuídaros xxx

The first carnation in my Malenan (Cordobese) country garden — its symbolism, and Pablo Neruda (alias Ricardo Eliécer Neftalí Reyes Basoalto)

Hi folks! I hope you’re all keeping well.

I just wanted to share a couple of photos with you of the first carnation that has flowered in my garden, here in the countryside of Posadas (in the province of Córdoba — Andalusia).

So here they are (simple, as photography is not really my thing. I used my Samsung whatever- the-model-is mobile).

The flower also reminded me of Pablo Neruda’s pretty poem, I do not love you:

XVII I Do Not Love You

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

Pablo Neruda was his pen name; true name was Ricardo Eliécer Neftalí Reyes Basoalto. A Chilean poet-diplomat and politician and former senator of the Republic of Chile who won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1971. In short, a colourful character (and no, I’m not a communist, in case you’re thinking — but yes, perhaps his demise from prostate cancer or possible poisoning under Pinochet’s orders seems questionable…hmmmm…)

For more details on Pablo’s biography see Wiki: for more details about his writings see the Poetry Foundation.

As for the etymology of the word, the scientific name for carnation is dianthus and can be split into two words which reveal it meaning: dios meaning God, and Anthos meaning flower, making them the flowers of the gods. These flowers generally represent:

Love
Fascination
Distinction

As for the symbolism, there are some interesting ideas, though I will only mention a couple here:

Ancient Roman Legend: According to legend, the carnation flower appeared after the Crucifixion of Christ. When mother Mary wept at the death of her son, her tears fell to the earth. Carnations sprang forth from each spot where Mary’s tears stained the earth. This legend lends credence to the theory that the carnation earned its name from incarnation.

Victorian: During Victorian times, flowers often sent a secret, coded message to a suitor or secret admirer. Sometimes, they also answered a secret question. A solid-coloured carnation meant the answer was “yes”. A striped carnation signified “I’m sorry, but I can’t be with you.” A yellow carnation symbolized “No”.

Other meanings according to colours are:

Red: Deep Love and Admiration
White: Pure Love and Good Luck
Pink: A Mother’s Love
Yellow: Disappointment or Rejection
Purple: Capriciousness
Striped: Rejection or Regret

So, in other words, my yellow and red striped carnation would mean Deep Love and Admiration with a bit of Disappointment or Rejection. Oh dear — does that sum up my love life, I wonder?

Anyway, I shan’t waffle on anymore, so at this point I shall say thanks for visiting and do take care! xxx

(As usual, your comments and/or questions are always welcome!)

Christ’s Passion Flower

Hi folks! I hope you’re keeping well…

I just wanted to share with you this photo of the beautiful Passion Flower I photographed when I was in England; it was just gracefully hanging over the neighbour’s fence, and the decorative, orange fruits languidly dripped from the verdant, intertwining branches.

The symbolic meaning of this flower is interesting and goes something like this:

The Passion flower (Passiflora) was named by Roman Catholic missionary priests who encountered the flower while on their journey in South America in the late 1500’s. They named it after the Passion of Jesus Christ, believing that several parts of the plant symbolized features of His suffering and death.

The symbolic parts of the plant are:

the filaments that represent the crown of thorns that Jesus wore before His crucifixion,
the three stigmas on the passion flower which represent the three nails that held Jesus to the cross
the ten “petals”, His ten faithful apostles, and
the five anthers symbolise the five wounds that Jesus suffered when he was crucified.

The passion flower started to become widely known, and many used the flower to teach about the crucifixion.

The flower can also be used for medicinal purposes to treat such cases as: anxiety, insomnia, stress, attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder (ADHD). It is also used for flavouring in foods.

To end this blog, here is a poem about the Passion Flower, written by Christopher Ifekandu Okigbo, a highly-acclaimed poet of Nigeria. He was also “a teacher, and librarian, who died fighting for the independence of Biafra. He is today widely acknowledged as an outstanding postcolonial English-language African poet and one of the major modernist writers of the 20th century… Despite his father’s devout Christianity (he was a teacher in Catholic missionary schools), Okigbo had an affinity, and came to believe later in his life, that in him was reincarnated the soul of his maternal grandfather, a priest of Idoto, (the water goddess of the Idoto River in his hometown), an Igbo deity (Igbo, the people of south-east Nigeria). — Wikipedia

Passion Flower — Christopher Ifekandu Okigbo (British Nigeria, 16 August 1932 – 1967)

And the flower weeps

unbruised,

Lacrimae Christi,

For him who was silenced;

whose advent

dumb bells¹ in the dim light celebrate

with wine song;

Messiah² will come again,

After the argument in heaven³;

Messiah will come again,

Lumen mundi⁴…

Fingers of penitence

bring

to a palm grove⁵

vegetable offering⁶

with five

fingers of chalk⁷.

Explanation of the poem:

1 — «dumb bell» referred to the practice in the Roman Catholic Church where bells are not rung between Maundy Thursday and the first Mass on Easter Sunday

2 — Messiah pointed at the expected King and Saviour (Jesus Christ).

3 —»after the argument in heaven» looks at the shaking of the powers of heaven referred to in The Gospel According to St. Luke, Chapter 21, verse 26, prior to the coming of the Son of Man, described in verse 27.

4 — “Lumen mundi”, the Light of the World (Jesus Christ)

5 — “Palm grove”, the place of sacrifice

6 — «vegetable offering», the fruits of the earth that are being sacrificed, that is, palm oil, kola nuts, alligator pepper and eggs of white hens

7 — «five fingers of chalk», the sacrificial chalk which is sold in «fingers».

(The explanation of the poem is taken from The Analysis of the poem Passion Flower by Christopher Okigbo)

Well, that’s all for now….

Thank you for visiting, your comments and/or questions are always welcome — take care! xxx

Foxgloves and Mary Webb

Hi folks! I hope this finds you well and not melting in the heat like me — (hence my sporadic posts during these sizzling days of summer…)

I just wanted to share my lovely photo of this beautiful foxglove…

The scientific name for this flower is the Latin digitalis, meaning ‘finger’. The old German vernacular name that harks back to the 16^th century is Fingerhut, translating literally as ‘finger hat’, though actually meaning ‘thimble’. The Olde English name, foxes glofa/e echoes the folk myth that foxes actually wore gloves on their paws so they could move silently when hunting their prey! Another more intimidating name for this deadly flower was ‘witch’s glove’.

Later names that emerged in the 19^th century name were ‘folks’ glove’, where ‘folk’ means fairy and ‘foxes-glew’, meaning ‘fairy music’.

Foxgloves were also grown in medieval gardens and the flowers were dedicated to the Virgin Mary — here they were called ‘Our Lady’s Gloves’.

Apart from being very pretty, the flowers are also used for drug preparations that contain cardiac glycosides. The plant is very toxic to humans and other animals, and consumption can even lead to death. (I think this was one of the favourite toxins that wives would use in the olden days, before the advent of forensic science, to gradually poison problematic husbands!)

As to the symbolism of the foxgloves, they represent a whole host of themes ranging from pride, energy, magic, ambition, insincerity, intuition and creativity, to productivity, communication, cooperation, and confidence too (so that’s quite a load, isn’t it?!)

And last but not least, here’s a poem written by Mary Webb about the Foxglove:-

Foxgloves

The foxglove bells, with lolling tongue,
Will not reveal what peals were rung
In Faery, in Faery,
A thousand ages gone.
All the golden clappers hang
As if but now the changes rang;
Only from the mottled throat
Never any echoes float.
Quite forgotten, in the wood,
Pale, crowded steeples rise;
All the time that they have stood
None has heard their melodies.
Deep, deep in wizardry
All the foxglove belfries stand.
Should they startle over the land,
None would know what bells they be.
Never any wind can ring them,
Nor the great black bees that swing them–
Every crimson bell, down-slanted,
Is so utterly enchanted

**Mary Webb**
(25 March 1881, Shropshire – 8 October 1927)

Mary Gladys Webb was an English romantic novelist and poet of the early 20th century, whose work is set chiefly in the Shropshire countryside and among Shropshire characters and people whom she knew. Many of her books were dramatised, including Precious Bane (one of my favourite books!). For a fuller biography, see this Mary Webb Society link

And to finish with, here’s another photo of my cat chilling out in the 43° C temperatures amidst the aloe vera plant.

Well, that’s all for now — thanks for visiting, take care! xxx

¡Olé! How artistic Posadas village is!

What an artistic village Posadas is! As I have mentioned before in my earlier blogs, there is a lot of art and craftwork, needlework, basket weaving, lace-making and crochet going on here (among other creative activities that I might have forgotten to mention). Some of the artwork, can be seen here; and earlier crochet projects (not including the Christmas work because it is out of season), here. Oh — for my crochet and lace-making classes to start once again!

However, in the photo below you can see the most recent example of the group’s crochet work: it is a large cross honouring Our Lady and Her month of May. In fact you can find many crosses that are on display for several days decorating the plazas, streets and shop windows all over Cordova; they are made up of a myriad of sweet-smelling flowers.

I remember often singing Bring flowers of the rarest hymn when I was living in England, since both my primary and secondary schools were catholic. (I also remember dear old Sister Carmela who used to nod off during our history class as she steadily munched her way through her McVitie’s digestives!).

Anyway, I have included the hymn below, for old times’ sake. I wonder how many of you remember it…

Happy month of May to all of you, even if it coming to a close!

Take care — bye for now! xxx

Busy translating!

Hello all!

Just a couple of lines to explain and excuse myself from my lack of blog activity over the last few weeks — I am very busy translating a book from Spanish to English, so at the end of the day my eyes are quite tired and my body a bit cramped and I find it rather strenuous to then continue writing more. Instead, I try to do some physical work to compensate: I either go for a walk, or attack the ever-flourishing weeds in my vegetable patch.

However, I do continue to read your blogs, even if a little late! So please bear with me (might be for quite a while) …

To finish with, here’s a photo: Sunday was Mother’s Day here in Spain, so here’s my booty! And Happy Mother’s Day to all you mothers and grandmothers, even if you’re not in Spain!

Carnations, earrings and lipstick (there’s nothing like an out of focus photo!)

Bye for now — take care! xxx

The Lonely Lupin (in my country abode of Posadas, Cordova)

Hello folks — hope this finds you well…

Since I woke up at the crack of dawn this morning, I decided not to linger in bed, entertaining endless thoughts in my head (that rhymes, doesn’t it?), but instead (and so does that), have an early cup of Tetley’s to rehydrate the brain and hopefully get it in some sort of working order — and if that failed, then have a invigorating shower followed by a healthy breakfast (of yoghurt with cut-up strawberries and bananas, plus raisins, mixed seeds, goji berries, all sprinkled over with cinnamon. Yummy!).

So I did all this, and finding myself pretty revitalised, despite my 5-hour night— (I was watching a documentary ‘til late on Hitler and the reaction of the different monarchies to him, the Nazis and the war) — I decided to go for an equally-invigorating walk along our country lane. Though the temperatures these days are reaching the 23°C mark, the morning temperatures are still fresh, around 8°C so it makes pleasant walking.

So off I set and what did I come across? The following photos will explain:

A lone, blue lupin growing wild amongst the tall grasses and in front of an unruly olive tree

But further along there was a row of them growing behind the neighbour’s wire fence — they return every year (the lupins, not the neighbours who come regularly to tend their olive trees)

And here was a white lupin plant (I had to walk 50 minutes to find one!). The leaves look acacia-like and quite typical of the *leguminosae* and you can see the bean pods of the lupin

And here’s a close-up of the flowers which are already beginning to shrivel and fade (I know the feeling…)

Now let me share with you what I have recently learnt about the pretty lupin:

The name comes from the Latin lupus, which means wolf, and the reason for the name is because it was believed that these flowers stole¸ cunningly like a wolf, the nutrients from the earth since they were commonly found on poor soils (the flowers that is, not the wolves). However, quite the opposite is true: lupins, like other legumes such as lentils, chick peas etc. actually enrich the soil and are useful for farming as they are high in nitrogen. Here in some traditional olive groves local to Posadas in the province of Cordova where the olives are picked by hand and not by machine, you can often see bushes of lentils, beans and chick peas that have been planted in rows between the trees. After the legumes have been harvested, the remaining plants will then be dug back into the soil in order to increase its fertility with all that added nitrogen.

Although lupins are part of the pea family, they are poisonous, containing toxic seeds and can therefore pose a threat to livestock and cattle. However, there is now the ‘sweet lupin’ a genetically-engineered variety of the original in which the toxic alkaloids have been removed. The beans of the lupin plant are edible and used for both human and cattle consumption. Australia is a major producer of these lupins

NOTE: you cannot eat just any lupin seeds from your garden or countryside the seeds must be processed first to remove the toxicity.

Lupin beans are a great favourite here in Spain (in fact in all the Mediterranean Basin countries, as well as North Africa and Latin America. They were also popular with the Incans, Native Americans, Romans and the Egyptian pharaohs too). Here, the lupin beans, or altramuces in Spanish, are often given as a free tapa in many bars (they are previously soaked until soft). Beware though: people who have a peanut allergy are fairly likely to be allergic to lupin beans too.

The beans are very nutritious and the extract from the seeds of the white lupin help the production of collagen, promoting cellular repair and growth. They are low in fat, gluten-free, rich in amino acids, antioxidants and fatty acids, high in fibre and contain protein too. They are also prebiotic. (I’ll think in future I’ll be adding this to my cereal or yoghurt-fruit mix — yippee, here comes super-woman!)

On a more mystical note, apart from their symbolism with wolves and the moon, the lupin represents happiness, imagination, creativity and admiration, also energising one’s inner strength. They represent hope for new opportunities too. (Yes, I’ll definitely be adding this to my cereal or yoghurt-fruit mix in the mornings, possibly soaking them first in a cup of Tetley’s to give them that extra kick!)

So, all in all, apart from being pretty and useful, lupins are also positive-meaning flowers, encouraging good cheer and hope. Something I wish for all of us.

But to finish with, here’s a poem about lupins by Seamus Heaney — poet, playwright and translator, lecturer and professor, (and one of nine children!), from a farming, cattle dealing and linen mill worker background.

Lupins

Seamus Heaney (Ireland 13 April 1939 – 30 August 2013)

They stood. And stood for something. Just by standing.
In waiting. Unavailable. But there
For sure. Sure and unbending.
Rose-fingered dawn’s and navy midnight’s flower.

Seed packets to begin with, pink and azure,
Sifting lightness and small jittery promise:
Lupin spires, erotics of the future,
Lip-brush of the blue and earth’s deep purchase.

O pastel turrets, pods and tapering stalks
That stood their ground for all our summer wending
And even when they blanched would never balk.
And none of this surpassed our understanding.

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Thank you for reading, bye for now — take care x

Caterpillars, Cordovan roof tiles and Wordsworth’s daffodils

Hello again! I hope this finds you all well.

As usual, I’ve been busy these days both flicking off caterpillars from my plants and painting (not at the same time though), as you can see in the following photos:

And here they are! Steadily munching their way through my broad bean plantlets!!!

Ouch! My poor iris, suffering a beheading from the merciless jaws of the caterpillar. (What wonderful in-focus photography, ha ha!)

But I did manage to rush to the iris’s rescue before it was all devoured, taking it inside with me to safety! (These are the tall irises, not the **dwarf ones** **irises** **that I talked about in my previous blog**.)

And being inspired by all the springy buds that are opening around me, I couldn’t resist trying to immortalise these by painting them on an old clay roof tile

And while recalling this ‘host of golden daffodils‘, how could I not end with the daffodil poem written by the English Romantic poet, Wordsworth.

I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud by William Wordsworth (7 April 1770 – 23 April 1850, Cumberland, England)

I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o’er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

The waves beside them danced; but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:

A poet could not but be gay,

In such a jocund company:

I gazed—and gazed—but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.

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Thank you for visiting — take care! xxx

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