Dahlias and dogs

Well they say that by ANZAC day the dahlias will be done and they are! I culled the plants but it's exciting to see plenty of the corms underground ready for later this year when summer comes around again.These ones were a gift a few years ago, form Gail and Neville's garden - and they are the gift that keeps on giving - and giving - as they multiply throughout the front garden. And the chrysanthemums are bursting out of their buds - feel free to come and pick a bunch - I have enough for one or 2 hundred bunches.

I have read through The Hound of Heaven again by Frances Thompson. I remember the first time I read it, discovering this little blue and black volume of poems by my mother's bed while I was doing the dusting, aged about 13 or 14. Amazed I was then, and still amazed now at the way a poem that is over 120 years old so aptly captures my God and I. I do indeed flee from him on a regular basis, but he is the one who "followed, followed after" and I acknowledge His love:

All which thy child’s mistake
Fancies as lost, I have stored for thee at home:	175
Rise, clasp My hand, and come!’
Halts by me that footfall:
Is my gloom, after all,
Shade of His hand, outstretched caressingly?
‘Ah, fondest, blindest, weakest,	180
I am He Whom thou seekest!

Speaking of dogs, I have begun a self-improvement plan of walking the dogs for exercise; mind you I am typing about it while the dogs sit at my feet waiting - I've laced on my shoes and they sit expectantly at my feet. Always distracted by the lure of words over exercise!
I finished a book last night which was read for sheer entertainment - Plum Lucky by Janet Evanovich; highbrow stuff it aint! Couple together a female bounty hunter with little people, horses which are telepathic, and a good looking man and you get the idea. Tonight I will begin something a bit more worthy.