Tempus Fugit

Passing through Templecombe Station, Somerset, on the Portsmouth bound train, I was struck by the impressive sculpture of a railwayman consulting a British Rail timetable. The scattered pages lay before him, and the sculpture, also a sun dial, is entitled Tempus Fugit. It's an unexpected gem in a quiet corner of the rail network. My professional life has been for so long been measured by the passing of Sundays, each with their quaint and archaic nomenclature. We're now in the Sundays after/of Trinity, which stretch into the autumn. Apart from the Sundays, it was the school terms which dominated my life and marked time passing. Term time weeks would include the conduct of assemblies in the local schools, but in holiday time the routine lifted and there were unexpected acres of time when school duties didn't call. Now, in retirement, I notice the changing vegetation on the glebe field. In May and June, everything rushed forward in growth - willow herb, nettles, meadowsweet and thistles grew high, but as July approaches, the peak has been reached. Tempus fugit still, but it now seems a gentler passing of time.

Conflict & Resolution event held in village

The local church planned a day event on Conflict & Resolution. The organiser, who lives in the village, was inspired to do so by the stained glass windows in the church which were given by a former prisoner of war, Gunther Anton, held in the village during WW2. He was a master glazier in Stuttgart and on his repatriation to Germany, designed and made windows which were shipped to the village over a period of several years. Good things have accrued out of the bad when one looks at the beautiful windows today, full of light, hope and thankfulness.

Bees swarming

The hot weather continues, day after day, and the swarms are happening regularly. After a long wet spring, it's as if the bees are relishing the chance to proliferate. This week a beekeeper ten miles away offered me a swarm she had collected. I drove through deep lanes to collect the swarm, lanes thick with the scent of meadow sweet and speckled with pink campion. The bees were neatly boxed up ready, and made no objection to a a car journey back to my glebe field. I used the time honoured way of putting a white sheet on boards before the new hive, and letting the bees walk themselves in. And they did. Every time it happens is a wonder to behold. After forty minutes, the whole swarm had disappeared into the hive. Now I'm just hoping they will stay put and make my hive their honeyed home.