Blackcurrants, my father’s favourite, the harvest begins
“But O for the touch of a vanish’d hand,
And the sound of a voice that is still!”
(The flower photos underneath my plate of blackcurrants were taken by my friend and photographer, David Dobbs.)
Oh that poem tugs on the heart … memories of dear people. Lovely post my friend …
Thank you, Julie. Sometimes I have to grow into poetry. This poem, which I have read many times before, suddenly had an extra dimension and feeling to it this year because I came to it after my father’s death.
Love to see the black currants! We always had them in our garden when I was a child and my dad prepared some juice by boiling them with sugar … until well into his 90s.
Our fathers did well on blackcurrants, didn’t they! I love home made blackcurrant juice.
Nice photo, and I like the plate with berries on it as well. You do compose your photos beautifully. My dad grew black currants too. I never see them now.
Thank you, Juliet. To survive in my garden, plants have to be hardy. I find that blackcurrants are hardy and need very little help from me. I don’t know if many people have blackcurrants in their home gardens but apparently NZ growers produce about 8000 tonnes a year. https://www.radionz.co.nz/news/country/346765/south-canterbury-blackcurrant-farm-cashes-in-on-superfood-buzz The linked article mentions Ribena. Did you drink that as a youngster? I didn’t much like it.
Seeing your lovely photograph with remembrance of your dad this morning was just the thing get my day started in a positive direction.
That’s lovely,Liz. Thank you for your kind comment.
Every now and then I meet someone who’s saved a voice message on their phone from a friend or family member now gone. It’s remarkable that we can do that now, although one of the little voices I’d like to hear again belonged to someone who never mastered the telephone, and who refused to speak into one even when offered the chance. Silly kitty!
Indeed, sweet, silly kitty. We do have recordings of my father but, somehow, they are not what I want to listen to. I guess it’s the voice plus presence which I am really seeking.
Lovely still life.
Thank you, Sally. Although it is not a skilfull image, it captures what I want it to, I think.
A beautiful poem, it was my Dad’s anniversary on Saturday and I still would like to hear that still voice, 17 years later.
Old poets write so movingly about grief and sorrow, probably because death was so much a part of people’s lives, not so very long ago. I was probably in my 40s before I attended a funeral for the first time. I hope you had some quiet time on Saturday to sit with your memories of your father. I find it interesting that I don’t long to hug my father or touch him, I just want to hear him. 🙂
Thank you, Cynthia. Hope I am not bringing back unpleasant memories of times when your voice was still.
Not at all.
I do love Blackcurrant jelly, another favourite of mine…..and parents and Grandparents made that. Thanks for the reflection on it and the memory.
Oh,yes, blackcurrant jelly or jam are delicious. My parents loved it too.
I am so often struck when visiting you on the beauty of your photographs – you have a talent for presentation that is just lovely!
Blush, Pauline. That’s a lovely comment coming from such an artistic person as yourself. Thank you.
A beautifully arranged bowl of currants, and poem from Tennyson, Gallivanta.
Thank you, Lavinia. It was lovely to see the New Zealand prayer (which I alerted you to) in your latest post. I am thinking of using parts of it for one of my Advent images.
I love that prayer for its simplicity and directness.
Beautiful. You do have a knack for bringing tears to my eyes. My brother’s voice so reflected his personality…upbeat, enthusiastic, curious. I often find myself listening for it…trying to replay it in my mind. I think I can still here it after 17 years, but it would be grand to sit down with him for a cup of coffee this morning. Thanks for another lovely post.
How lovely that would be if you could introduce him to your new home. He would be so happy and excited for you, judging from the way you describe him.
Nothing like that tongue-tingling sensation of blackcurrants. And so nutritious. I seem to remember your saying that your dad lived to a very good age. Good on him!
Tish, he lived to 97. I think the blackcurrants must have been helpful. 😉 I like your words, ‘tongue-tingling’. Next time someone tells me that blackcurrants are sour, I will correct them and say they are tongue-tingling. 🙂
97. That was a jolly good stint 🙂
Yes, a very good stint, considering how much of him (lungs, heart, kidney, liver etc etc) didn’t work very well. 😀
Lovely thoughts of your father . . . that little bit of Tennyson is perfect.
Thanks, Kerry. Dad wasn’t a man of literature but, like most men of his age, was familiar with Tennyson and could recite some of his work. His mother could recite Tennyson (and others )as well. Dad often told us how good his mother was at reciting poetry.
THE PHOTOGRAPHS LOOK SO PROFESSIONAL AND I LOVE THE SITE, CHINA