Oh the joy of working in the garden again, as I have all day, clearing space for a new greenhouse; of being outside once more after a long 'office week' indoors. The sun has been shining; it has been warm with a cloudless blue sky, birds overhead and the earthy smell of our bonfire woodsmoke in the air.
It was just such a day eight years ago, on 11th September 2001, when, as I was driving home mid-afternoon from shopping in town, half-listening to the car radio, I caught the news that "a light aircraft has flown into a New York skyscraper". Increasing disbelief as the tragedy of the Twin Towers unfolded and the enormity of the situation was revealed.
I was reminded of the horror only this last week when I watched on tv '9/11: 102 minutes that changed America'. A remarkable film, but to understand the thought processes of people who can commit such a diabolical crime is beyond belief. What happened to love? I still feel for everyone who was hurt by this atrocity, cannot truly contemplate their individual grief and pain. So I sit quiet in the garden for a while and write a poem, "On this day ...", which I will not share publicly for fear my words might upset anyone (though I will gladly send it personally to anyone who asks). Maybe it is insensitive of me to even remark upon 9/11, but I cannot get it out of my head. Far over the Atlantic, yet NY is only six hours away, and but a nano-second in the mind.
I reflect on the difference between destruction, peace, and consideration for others, and what it means to give pleasure. I bake a Friendship Cake for our tea and offer a sweet morsel, metaphorically, to all who care to share the true meaning of humanity.