International Women's Day

A great afternoon yesterday, celebrating International Women's Day at the Raised Voices event at St. Mary de Crypt in Gloucester - female poets from all over Gloucestershire coming together to delight in and honour the contribution of women across time and place. The strength of women (like a "hornbeam leaning into the wind"), the struggles of women (miscarriage -"the reality no-one wants to acknowledge", "the full body armour" when fighting eating disorders), the endless caring for the young, the old and the sick; the day to day existence and the moments of transcendence  - all were expressed by established names and new-comers who had never before read in public. Moving testimony about undertaking the Hajj after a year in which the poet had lost her husband, a child and both parents; reminders of all the women who paved the way for the freedoms and rights we now enjoy; recognition of how much further we have to go to achieve the parity we seek - there was so much emotion and so much energy in the participants, it was incredibly inspiring. 

Another positive has been the improvement in the weather over the last few days - Spring does seem to be hovering in the wings now and putting a tentative foot forward from time to time. On Friday we did a few miles of the Wye Valley Walk we've been doing on and off for a while now; the sun shone and the countryside just north of Hereford, though still showing signs of the recent flooding, certainly seemed to be moving forward into better days. I have to disagree with Robert Browning though - perhaps you remember his poem "O to be in England"? He spoke of the buttercup as being "the little children's flower"; for me that will always be the celandine, which I loved as a child and which was growing in abundance on Friday with primroses and early violets in the hedgerows. Apparently the name celandine shares its root with swallow, and both are said to arrive in the countryside at about the same time. No signs of swallows around here yet though!

"There's a flower that shall be mine,
'tis the little celandine"
William Wordsworth