Pacific Thoughts Arriving LO26040

Date: 02/02/01

Replying to Pacific Thought LO26001

Dear At you wrote,

>Andrew Campbell < > writes:

>[Maybe we can get a picture attached to this Rick;-)
>...if so, then...find the little chair therein and consider
>the eternality of the children fidgety sat upon the finity
>of the four legs.]
>[Host's Note: Image is at
> < > ..Rick]

>>Greetings Dear Andrew,

>>-Jessica the past couple of weeks. She is bent on "caring"
>>for the "fairies". She is in a peaceful state of mind. She creates tiny
>>furniture (about 2 cm in size) for the fairies. She then puts these
>>furniture in small boxes (open to one side) and hangs these boxes outside
>>in the fruit trees. (It is very dry and hot here over much of the northern
>>part of South Africa for the past six weeks. Most of the farmers' crops
>>have burned to death. Jessica reckons that the fairies now need more care
>>than usual.)

>>She is also on a painting spree. SNIP ON A YELLOW-BEIGE BACKGOUND.

>>When I read the following, I knew I just had to tell of the remarkable

Mmmmm. Such another 'scooting' (fast moving and flighty) 'garden fairy'
sent me and some friends this poem the other day. So it seems such fairies
as might exist do so by way of acausal, synchronous thinking "becoming"
fields as might be expected by the imaginative souls?

                            Every valley drinks
                             Every dell and hollow
                      Where the kind rain sinks and sinks
                          Green of Spring will follow
                              Yet lapse of weeks
                          Buds will burst their edges
                  Strip their wool-coats, glue coats, streaks
                            In the woods and hedges
                             Weave a bower of love
                         For birds to meet each other
                            Nest and egg and mother
                            But for fattening rain
                           We should have no flowers
                           Never a bud or leaf again
                           But for soaking showers;
                              Never a mated bird
                           In the rocking tree-tops,
                         Never indeed a flock or herd
                         To graze upon the lea-crops.
                           Lambs so woolly white,
                         Sheep the sun-bright leas on
                       They could have no grass to bite
                            But for rain in season
                            We should find no moss
                            In the shadiest places,
                          Find no waving meadow grass
                         Pied with broad-eyed daises:
                           But miles of barren sand,
                         With never a son or daughter,
                            Not a lily on the land,
                             Or lily on the water.

Lack of water is not our fairies problem, but be sure Oupa to tell little J
that the fairies in the gardens of S appreciate the appreciations.

And imagining S and J at play in some/any 'field' I see a preponderance of
colour yellow (-friendship;-)


humble messenger Andrew;-)


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