Monday, 25 April 2011


Posted by Tania Kindersley.

I am tired. I am tired deep into the bone, in the places where sleep cannot reach. My eyelids are tired. My fingernails are tired.

I yearn for simplicity.

The sun shines down. The world turns. The blossom blossoms.

In it all, I find the younger niece. We sit for a moment in the sun and talk of life and death. And dogs, of course. She loves the dogs as much as I; they were once her puppies, before they came to live with me. She pulls their velvet ears and they gaze at her in plain adoration.

She is completely and utterly herself; young and funny and kind and true. I think: what a lovely gift, to be always your absolute self. I think: authenticity is not a high, singing word. It’s not something on which epic poems are made. But it is my word of the day. If I had the talent for the sonnet form, which I do not, it is the quality about which I should weave my sonnets.


The first mint:

25th April 2

And the young marjoram:

25th April 4


25th April 3


25th April 4-1

The light on the apple tree:

25th April 6-1

And the white lilac:

25th April 6

And the blue flowers:

25th April 7

And the unknown shrub, which now, thanks to a kind reader, I remember is a daphne:

25th April 8

25th April 9

The last of the grape hyacinths:

25th April 9-1

The dogs:

25th April 1

25th April 11

The hill:

25th April 10

Lovely, lovely comments, again; so wise and kind. Thank you for them all. They mean a lot.


  1. Thank you for soothing me with your words and your blooms even today.
    Thinking of you with loving thoughts.xx

  2. I'm very sorry about your loss. With grief you need as much sleep as you can get, to start healing. But you have the courage to put up the lovely flower and dog photos. All best wishes.

  3. Beautiful pictures, of course x

    How lovely to have your niece. Thinking of you.

  4. Well done on still being able to see the lovely things around you. So great to hear your niece can just be herself; not many people can do that, I find.

    Regarding fragility and tiredness, I recall my brother, who had to fly from Australia to be at our father's funeral (and again, more recently, for our mother's). He said he wished he could have written on his forehead "my Dad just died" so that people would treat him gently. Thinking of it now, some "Fragile" stickers would have been a good idea for him, too. It is not really possible to act normally, as you said in your post yesterday.

    I know many people will be kind to you, but do be kind to yourself as well.

  5. Catching up. So very sorry to hear about your father. He sounds an amazing man. I particularly liked this:

    "We all have gone our own way, because he offered us the rare present of no expectations. He did not expect us to have two point two children or work in regular jobs or sit up straight or even follow in his footsteps. He let us go our own way, which is a lovely bequest."

    What an amazing bequest indeed.

    Sounds like you have some wonderful memories. Grieving is hell, but important. Be good to yourself.

  6. You're not there yet, but for when you are, I thought you might like to know that next time you're in London, you can rack up the caffeine high here... Must be worth a look-see.

  7. Dear Tania,
    I'm thinking about you and I'm very happy to find such beautiful spring flowers here. Sending love.
    B xx


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