VICKY Two Little Butterflies
This wonderful post comes from Vicky Ellis. It exemplifies what family means and it celebrates two brilliant matriarchs. Thank you Vicky for sending this over and oh my goodness we’re all excited for New Gen #1.
VICKY
I was lucky enough to know my two grannies, Granny Hanney and Granny Lancaster.
Granny Hanney had a treasure trove of a treat cupboard and a magical garden to explore.
Granny Lancaster made the crispiest roast potatoes (I always had dibs on the last one) and would read to us from Mother Goose’s nursery rhymes book. It became a firm favourite.
I don’t yet know how my own mum will be in the granny stakes (other than wonderful) or more importantly, if she’ll be a Granny Kate, Gran Esher or something else. (Suggestions on a postcard perhaps? And a real postcard would be nice actually, who reads blogs or WhatsApp these days?)
What I do know is, grandchild number one is bound to have plenty of reading time and, I would hope, will grow to love poetry as much as both sides of his mum’s family.
We’re all walking a lot more - let’s face it, it’s the only thing we can all do now and pretty much the only exercise a pregnant gal on the edge of waddling could do, lockdown or not.
One walk has become a regular, through the hidden back alley of shrubs and cow parsley that rules a line between a park and school playing field on one side, and a Muslim burial ground, a lush green wasteland holding a burnt out car and the north circular on the other.
Down this green trail we go, and after spotting two bright butterflies on one walk, I ‘wrote’ this out loud with a lot of repetition and to a lot of laughter from Christan, with the baby-to-be in mind.
Thanks Christan, my official photographer!
Image owned by Vicky Ellis
Two little butterflies
Two little butterflies
flitting down the lane,
one called Sally,
one called Jane,
Two little butterflies
racing in the sun,
one from Newcastle,
one from Brum,
Two little butterflies
resting on the fence,
neither one bigger
than a shiny 50 pence,
Two little butterflies
floating on the breeze,
taking in the fresh air,
doing as they please,
Two little butterflies
tapping every flower,
smelling all the blooms that grow
deep in the fairy bower.
Two little butterflies
one called Sally, one called Jane,
gleaming white and orange
in the green, green lane.
