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Word From Wormingford

RichardB on February 23rd, 2015

Ronald Blythe remembers hearing hymns sung by Cornish fishermen ST PAUL tells the Church to put on love as though it was a garment; to wear it so that the world can see it. As both a Jew and a Roman, he was entitled to wear the recognisable dress of both nationalities. In the same […]

Continue reading about Word from Wormingford – 20 February 2015

RichardB on February 13th, 2015

Ronald Blythe tidies up the garden and feels a new energy THE artists John and Christine Nash called their inner circle “the dear ones” – not from any feeling of exclusivity, but of management. Over the years, they had taught and belonged to various art movements in East Anglia. They had taken a practical part in […]

Continue reading about Word from Wormingford – 13 February 2015

RichardB on February 6th, 2015

Ronald Blythe reflects on those whom we live and travel with “I THINK I could turn and live with animals, they are so placid and self-contained,” the American poet Walt Whitman wrote. And placid was a word for the English countryside which John Constable loved. Having seen it in riot when the farmworkers rose against their starvation wages, […]

Continue reading about Word from Wormingford – 6 February 2015

RichardB on January 30th, 2015

Ronald Blythe celebrates a friend’s birthday with songs and champagne THE autocratic nature of a great frost – it imposes its will on the winter itself. I am aware of this before I draw the curtains. Below the old farmhouse, the Stour Valley has hardened and whitened at its command, and become another place. Not a […]

Continue reading about Word from Wormingford – 30 January 2015

RichardB on January 23rd, 2015

Ronald Blythe recalls how, in a silent garden one night, he gazed at the sky MARKET DAY. The village bus twists and turns through the lanes. On it are old folk, students, workmen, the woman who reads paperbacks all the way. There is an Italianate villa where the naval rating who helped to bury Rupert […]

Continue reading about Word from Wormingford – 23 January 2015

RichardB on January 19th, 2015

Ronald Blythe finds inspiration in the prayers of a writer from the past HAVING wheeled barrow-loads of mulch from the so-called back lawn – a rich kingdom for snowdrops – so that the mower can have its way, I begin to shape the summer. Snowdrops and snowflakes for Candlemas onwards, and both for the feast […]

Continue reading about Word from Wormingford – 16 January 2015

RichardB on January 10th, 2015

Ronald Blythe looks out at a winter scene that is neither ‘wild’ nor ‘drear’ TWELFTH NIGHT. Shakespeare wrote his play for it, and King James and everyone crammed into Whitehall to see it. A boy sang “Come away, come away, death,” and there was confusion of roles and gender. It is enchanting at this moment: the […]

Continue reading about Word from Wormingford – 9 January 2015

RichardB on January 7th, 2015

Ronald Blythe leaves the detritus of Christmas and makes an annual visit   MY GREAT frost poem is Coleridge’s “Frost at Midnight”. “The frost performs its secret ministry, unhelped by any wind.” And so it did last night. The pasture was brittle and bright, the horse ponds on the point of being ice. A new […]

Continue reading about Word from Wormingford – 2 January 2015

RichardB on December 19th, 2014

Ronald Blythe recalls former residents of Bottengoms Farm THE Christmas-card snowstorm brings in an atlas of my life. Views of every parish I have been to: familiar parishes, glimpsed parishes, parishes I have worked in, parishes in which I have felt the presence of artists and writers. And priests, of course. And naturalists. And those adopted […]

Continue reading about Word from Wormingford – 19 December 2014

RichardB on December 12th, 2014

Glorious tombs and an old pub draw Ronald Blythe to a small town MURKY warm December days. Strangely pleasant. We drive to Framlingham on the spur of the moment. The little town, with its great history, is still and wet. I remember once coming home from baking Sydney, and loving the raindrops sliding down the plane windows […]

Continue reading about Word from Wormingford – 12 December 2014