Sally Murphy's Blog, page 9

What I Read in October 2023

It’s a new month, which means time to look at what I read last month. I was in Adelaide for the month, on a May Gibbs Children’s Literature Trust Creative Time Fellowship, which meant that not only did I have lots of time for writing, I also had extra time for reading. Oh joy! And Adelaide is well provided with good bookshops, both new and used. So I had a field day!  I managed 16 books in October, and brought home many more (actually I had to post them home to avoid my luggage being stupidly heavy).

Some really great reads this month, but as you’ll see I had two absolute favourites – Odder and Dog Songs, both of which filled my heart, but also made me want to keep working on my poetic craft.  Here’s what I read.

Books for Children Annabel’s Dance, by Diane Jackson Hill & Lois Bury (Wombat Books, 2021). A really cute story about a sheep who does not want to be shorn. A Matter of Cats, by Elizbeth Hutchins (Wakefield press, 2022). I was lucky enough to meet Elizabeth during my stay in Adelaide and, by chance, we’d each brought along our cat themed book – and swapped them.  Among other things, this one deals with the dilemma of being a cat lover while understanding they are bad for native wildlife. Belinda, by Pamela Allen (Puffin, 1992). What fun to pick up a Pamela Allen book for $1 while  in Adelaide. I thought I knew all of Allen’s books, but hadn’t read this one before. The Children’s Jackanapes, adapted by F. H- Lee from Julia Horatia Ewing (George & Harrap, 1937).  This very old little book was picked up at a second hand bookshop. I  found, from an internet search, that the story was first published, presumably in a longer form in 1884, and this version was a retelling. Humbert , by John Burmingham (Puffin, 1965). You guessed, it another one I picked up second-hand in Adelaide. Humbert’s story is delightful. Jenny Angel , by Margaret Wild & Anne Spudvilas (Viking, 1999). Very surprised to find this one in an op shop, but a win for me as I didn’t own a copy of this beautiful picture book, dealing with the difficult topic of the death of a sibling, in a beautiful beautiful combination of text and art. Nurse Lugton’s Curtain, by Virgina Woolf & Julie Vivas (Bodley Head, 1991). I didn’t know that Virginia Woolf had written children’s stories, and to find one made into a picture book with illustrations by one of Australia’s finest illustrators was a real treat, especially in an op shop. Stunning. This Book of Mine, by Sarah Stewart & David Small (Farrar Strauss Giroux, 2019). A beautiful celebration of the magic of owning, connecting, and falling in love with, a book. The Dog That Dumped on My Doona, by Barry Jonsberg (Allen & Unwin, 2008). Another op-shop find, from an author whose work I like. this  one is comedy, involving a talking dog, and a lizard needing rescuing. Odder, by Katherine Applegate (Wellbeck Flame, 2022). I picked this one up because of the cover, but when I realised it was a verse novel there was no question of me buying it, reading it asap, and adoring it. This book is as beautiful as its cover!The Battle of the Galah Trees, by Christobel Mattingley Brookhampton Press, 1972).  As part of a historical fiction book I am writing, I went looking for a book that might have been in a local library in 1978. In an Antiquarian Bookshop in Adelaide I found this one – signed by the author in 1978. It seemed a sign, so of course I bought it, read it, and enjoyed it.Books for AdultsSpring and All by William Carlos Williams (this edition 2019, first published 1923). Filling in some gaps in my reading of this modernist poet, whose ‘plum’ poem was one of the first free verse poems I ever encountered. This collection is a mix of prose and poetry, and takes some digesting, which is a good thing. Love, Dad: Confessions of an Anxious Father, by Laurie Steed (Fremantle Press, 2023). I’ve been meaning to read this one since it was released a few months ago, and took it on the plane for my flight to Adelaide. A really heartfelt, honest memoir of early fatherhood and the struggles of anxiety,  a writing career and life in general. Second Innings: On men, mental health and cricket, by Barry Nicholls (Fremantle Press, 2021). Another exploration of anxiety, different to Love Dad, but equally as heartfelt. I found them good companion reads, one after the other. Park Ruth : Dear Hearts and Gentle People, by Ruth Park (Penguin Books, 1994). First published in 1955, this is not one of the Ruth park books I had previously come across, but I really enjoyed it. Set in 1920s rural new Zealand and telling the story of a young girl going to live with her four aunts, who adore their niece, but also work to escape the control of their cantankerous father, and find their own ways forward in love and life. Dog Songs: Poems, by Mary Oliver (Corsair Poetry, 2013). As with Odder (above) I fell in love with this book even before I’d opened it. I adore dogs, and I adore Mary Oliver’s poetry, so this is a perfect combination. I’ll be rereading this one often, I suspect.

 

That brings my total for the year to 103, with two months to go. I suspect now that I’m home and back at the day job, the number won’t be as high in December, but that’s okay.  What have you been reading? I’d love to hear!

 

Poetry Friday: Birthdays

This week, my beautiful friend Rebecca Newman celebrated a significant birthday. She has been a friend of mine for quite a long time, but I have been especially lucky to see that friendship strengthened this year when we worked together as co-editors on Right Way Down, a poetry anthology which is getting ever closer to being out in the world.

This little book had its origins when I pitched an idea at a SCBWI retreat, for an anthology of children’s poetry by West Australian poets. Rebecca was there and she vowed to make it happen. And she did, under the badge of her company Alphabet Soup Books:  getting grant funding, asking me to work with her on editing, putting a call out for poems, securing an amazing illustrator and then, when publisher Fremantle Press suggested a partnership, negotiating that, too.  The final product is going to be something amazing, and I am honoured to have played a small part in it.  But what a powerhouse Rebecca is – and she is an amazing poet and all round nice person, too.

So, it seems apt to dedicate today’s post to Rebecca. I went searching for poems about birthdays and came up with this one, from Christina Rosetti, which I adore.

A BirthdayMy heart is like a singing bird       Whose nest is in a watered shoot;My heart is like an apple-tree        Whose boughs are bent with thickset fruit;My heart is like a rainbow shell         That paddles in a halcyon sea;My heart is gladder than all these          Because my love is come to me.Raise me a dais of silk and down;          Hang it with vair and purple dyes;Carve it in doves and pomegranates,           And peacocks with a hundred eyes;Work it in gold and silver grapes,           In leaves and silver fleurs-de-lys;Because the birthday of my life            Is come, my love is come to me.Technically, I think this poem is not about an actual birthday, but the feeling of being born (reborn?) when discovering love. In Rosetti’s case, I believe this was probably religious love, as she was a devo0ut Christian. Regardless, I love the rich imagery of the poem, and hope that Rebecca enjoys it too.You might not know Rebecca, but if you’d like to give her a gift, you could do it by preordering a copy of Right Way Down, the first book with Rebecca’s name on the front cover (I suspect the first of many!). Here’s to Rebecca, and to amazing friendships, and to new anthologies.Speaking of friendships, I am off today to speak to friends old, new and (hopefully) future at a High Tea for the May Gibbs Children’s Literature Trust, who have so generously brought me to Adelaide.  Best go and put on my party dress! But I’ll be back later to check out the Poetry Friday Roundup, which is being hosted today by Bridget who, coincidentally, is also having a birthday!

Poetry Friday: Turtle Joy

Don’t you love coincidences? On Sunday I was lunching with two lovely new friends – Mary Wilson, Patron of the May Gibbs Children’s Literature Trust (which brought me here to Adelaide), and fellow writer Elizabeth Hutchins. We had a lovely lunch, but I did find myself slapping away more than one mosquito and found myself reciting a rhyme from a childhood favourite rhyme: ‘She snapped at a mosquito.’

Mary asked what the line was from, and I recited the whole rhyme which, I was surprised, neither of my friends knew:

There was a little turtle.He lived in a box.He swam in a puddle.He climbed on the rocks.He snapped at a mosquito.He snapped at a flea.He snapped at a minnow.And he snapped at me.He caught the mosquito.He caught the flea.He caught the minnow.But he didn’t catch me.(Vachel Lindsey )And that would have been that, except that very next day I strolled through Adelaide’s parks, and came across a little fenced garden. When I entered I found a tranquil oasis, with paths and plants and grass, and a large pond. I sat for a moment – and then realised the pond was inhabited – by not just one or two turtles, but dozens of them.What a surprise and how mesmerising to sit for a very long time and contemplate their gentle  movements and the way they appeared and disappeared.And, of course, this led to me pulling out not just my camera, but also my notepad. And, after a while, a  poem draft.Turtle Pace

Sometimes it feels

like you must

Madly paddle

just to stay afloat.

Others as if

each stroke

moves you

s l o w l y

in the right direction.

Either way

just remember

once in a while

to pop up for air

or to check out the scenery.

(Sally Murphy, 2023)I’ve certainly been checking out the scenery here in Adelaide, but have also been making really good progress on my  two novel projects. Life is good. You know what else is good? Poetry Friday.  Catherine will be hosting the roundup today, and I’m off to see what other poetry goodies are on offer. See you there.  Before you go, if need more turtle moments, here’s a little collation of my photos and videos.

Poetry Friday: Dear Herbert

Hello from Adelaide!

I am really fortunate to be here as the guest of the May Gibbs Children’s Literature Trust, on a Creative Time Fellowship. These fellowships are amazing: each recipient is given the gift of time and space to write, or illustrate, for a whole month.

And what a gift that is. Like so many other creators, I have a day job which keeps me busy, and has kept me especially busy over the Covid years. So the gift of a month out of the daily routine, with accommodation and a change of location so that I don’t slip into usual routines, is amazing. Couple that with the loveliest support from the volunteers at the trust, to ensure I have everything I need, and I could well be in heaven.

While I am here, my goal is to complete drafts of two books – a verse novel and a historical. Both are projects I have planned for some time, and I am really excited to have time to get them down.

The verse novel actually started out as a picture book manuscript, which I just could not get right and so kept putting aside. But, no matter how much I neglected it, for several years the main character Herbert has been whispering to me that I needed to write his story. And, eventually, I realised that Herbert, and the other characters, were going to need more space than a picture book provided, to each tell their stories. They needed a verse novel.

So when I sat down here in Adelaide I had a plan for this story, and was ready to start writing. But something very unexpected happened. Herbert, it seemed, was not going to behave himself. While the other characters were very aware that verse novels are usually written in free verse, Herbert seemed to have other ideas. In fact, he seems to have a poetic mind all of his own!

So, it seems, I am writing a verse novel where the main character just breaks out into rhyme like a Winnie the Pooh sidekick (I half expect a tiddly-pom to appear at any moment). But, oddly, it seems to be working, so far, and I am just going with the flow. And, while I don’t generally share drafts of my work in progress here on my blog, it seemed a good exercise to write to Herbert and tell him what I think about his penchant for rhyme.

Dear Herbert

You’ve been whispering to me for years
telling me your story
dropping little reminders –
like the beautiful daffodils
that bloomed so delightfully
this Spring
and the homeless man I encountered
on my walk this morning.
You have made sure
that I won’t leave your story
to rot
in my ideas folder
or notepad.
You have whispered
plot points
at random times –
some of them most inopportune.
And I have listened
and set aside this time
to get your story into shape.
But why
oh why
oh why
did you not ever tell me
that you must speak in rhyme?
Yours in bemusement
Sally

It didn’t surprise me that Herbert decided he must write back.

Dear Sally

I have a story

that much is true

which  I’ve whispered and muttered

and shouted to you.

You’ve taken your time

to pay me good heed –

the years have gone by

since I planted the seed.

I’ve waited, impatient,

for my day to come

and meantime it seems

I have mastered the drum

of rhythm and rhyme

and all it can do

so pick up the pace

and carry it through.

You’ll see that my story

will work out this way

with your free verse sincerity

and my sense of play.

Love, Herbert

 

Somehow, I think Herbert is right. The little pockets of rhyme are very fun to create and, hopefully, will give a sense of play in the midst of more serious moments. Time will tell.

I’m getting back to work now, but not before I  head over to see what my fellow Poetry Fridayers are doing today. The roundup is hosted by Matt. And, if you’d like to keep up with what I’m doing in Adelaide,  I’m posting daily  glimpses on Instagram .

What I Read in September 2023

September is done which means it’s time for another round up of what I read last month. I managed nine books,  with old treasures being a recurrent theme here. Here’s what I read.

Books for ChildrenFarmer Schulz’s Ducks, by Colin Thiele & Mary Milton (Walter  McVitty, 1986). Look at this stunning cover! The inside is just as lovely.  I love Colin Thiele, and was delighted to pick up this first edition hard cover from a local second hand booksale.Please Mrs Butler, verses by Allan Ahlberg, illustrated by Fritz Wegner (Puffin Books, 1983). Another treasure from the booksale. Ahlberg’s verse is funny, clever and sometimes poignant. Staying Alive in Year 5 , by John Marsden (Piper Books, 1989). Another from the booksale. You can see what a real treasure trove it was! A fun, but also touching story, about the excitement of a teacher with seemingly magical abilities.  How Does Santa Go Down the Chimney? by Mac Barnett & Jon Klassen (Walker Books, 2023). Not from the booksale – this one came in the mail as a review copy from the publisher. And how glad I was. I LOVE Christmas books, and I love the illustration work of Jon Klassen. Funny text, funny illustrations, sure to be a favourite with my grandies and with you. Raging Robots and Unruly Uncles , by Margaret Mahy (Puffin, 1981). Yes, you guessed it, another from the booksale.  I thought from the title this might be a collection of short stories but is indeed a junior novel about the children of two twin uncles – one who is as saintly as can be, and the other who is wicked and villainous. A whimsical read that I really enjoyed.The Aboriginal Children’s History of Australia, Written & Illustrated by Australia’s Aboriginal Children (Rigby, 1977) . Another second hand book, though not from the local sale, but tracked down and bought online after I saw a reference to it somewhere. I wanted to see what  how first nations children who were at school when I was a child saw Australia and its history. Well worthwhile reading and contemplating.Books for Adults Yellowface, by Rebecca F. Kuang (The Borough Press, 2023).  A critique/satire/exploration of the publishing industry through a dark drama.   June Hayward, the viewpoint character and struggling author, steals the unpublished manuscript of the far more successful Athena Liu when the latter dies suddenly. When June rewrites the manuscript it is snapped up by a major publisher – and her career takes off. Except that she is accused both of cultural appropriation and of stealing the manuscript – and events start to spiral out of her control.   It feels kind of meta to even review this book, as it is largely played out through social media from reviewers, readers and others, but I both enjoyed the read and  found myself thinking about the issues it explores.Mao Tsetung Poems (Foreign Languages Press, 1976). An interesting find at the booksale – a first edition of the poems of Chairman Mao .Rottnest Island Sketchbook, drawings by Paul Rigby, text by Kirwan Ward (Rigby, 1969). Another second hand book – though I bought this one online.  Doing a little research on the history of Rottnest (more appropriately named Wadjemup, as that is the traditional name)  and while this only a brief overview, it still makes for interesting reading, in spite of its oversight of both the pre-colonial history and some of the terrible history during its time as a penal settlement.

That brings my total for the year to date to 87 books.  Far fewer than last year, but the goal this year has been to read more for pleasure, and less for getting through them. I think I’m managing that.

What have you been reading? I’d love to hear.

 

Poetry Friday: Kookaburras Revisited

Last Friday I shared, among other things, an image and  poemling about kookaburras. At the same time, I felt a twinge of regret because I knew that when those kookas had visited me, not only had I snapped some quick photos on my phone camera, including the one I shared last week, but I had also got my bigger camera out and taken some better shots. But, as I prepared my blog post, I could not find them no matter how much I searched my computer. So, I gave up, and used the photo I had.

And I told myself it didn’t matter if I had lost those photos – the memory was magical, and it was real, and I didn’t  need photographic evidence.  I even wrote a little poemlet to explore this  realisation:

Who’d have thunk

a  memory

does not need to be captured

on camera

to have been real?

(Sally Murphy, 2023).

But, as is often the way, a few days after I had stopped looking, the photos turned up – while I was looking for something completely different on my computer. And the photos were as lovely and clear as I remembered. There was this one:

and this one

and also, one that was almost a perfect shot – a snap of one kooka flying away.  I love the detail of the feathers, but wish I had got more kookaburra, especially the top, and less fence.  Except, maybe I don’t really wish that – because  the perfection isn’t in the image, it’s in the memory of these three birds visiting me in a way I had never experienced before. Who needs a photo? Still, I wrote another little poemlet about this moment.

Fleeting moment

almost perfectly captured.

(Sally Murphy, 2023).

Speaking of fleeting moments, I can’t hang around today because I am off to a wedding. My lovely niece and her fiancé are to be wed this afternoon, and so I am flying off (see what I did there) to get ready.

Before I go, here is an excerpt from a bush ballad titled The Kookaburras, by John O’Brien, published in 1921:

Fall the shadows on the gullies, fades the purple from the mountain;
And the day that’s passing outwards down the stairways of the sky,
With its kindly deeds and sordid on its folded page recorded,
Waves a friendly hand across the range to bid the world “good-bye.”
Comes a buoyant peal of laughter from the tall, white, slender timber,
Rugged mirth that floods the bushland with the joy of brotherhood,
With the rustic notes sonorous of a happy laughing chorus,
When the kookaburras bless the world because the world is good.

(You can read the rest of the poem here).

And, if you have never heard a kookaburra chorus – or if you just need cheering up today – there’s this:

Jama will be hosting today’s Poetry Friday Roundup. Check it out here.’

 

Hooray for Australia II

I have been trawling through lots of memories and memorabilia from my childhood, looking for items from a particular year for a book I am planning (more on that another time) and came across a poem I wrote in 193. Coincidentally, today marks the 4oth year of the event which inspired me to write the poem.

I was 15 when Australia II won the America’s Cup, very early in the morning of September 27 Australian time. – and I have a confession to make: while my poem shows just how excited I was by this feat, I actually slept though it. My mum tried to wake me to watch it on television, but, while I did wake up, I also decided against getting up – partly because I had got up for at least one other race in the preceding weeks and, most likely, the cancelled decider a few days earlier.

Of course when I DID get up, much later, it was too late and i was disappointed that I hadn’t made the effort. But I was still just as excited as, seemingly, the whole of Australia that ‘we’ had won the cup.

Anyway, here is the poem I wrote in honour of this event. Note especially that the boat and crew are ‘they’ to start with, but the closer they get to winning, the more I, apparently, was part of it and ‘we’ won.  Story of my life when it comes to sport!

The great Australian hero:

The boat so highly praised –

Australia II who won the challenge,

And left the Americans dazed.

 

They left Perth filled with courage,

Determined they would win,

Needing to fill the yearning

They were feeling within.

 

They made it to the final round

By defeating the English crew,

Then began racing Liberty –

Hooray for Australia II!

 

After only four finals races

Us Aussies were down, three to one,

But still there was courage left

In the hearts of everyone.

 

We fought back, bravely, strongly

And levelled the score three to three,

And fear was beginning to spread

Among the crew of Liberty.

 

The final race grew closer,

The Atmosphere was great,

For all true-blue Australians

September 27 was the big date.

 

We proved that we could do it,

We beat the Americans well,
As Australia II crossed the line

American spirits fell.

 

Great joy spread throughout Australia –

The cup was finally won!

John Bertram and his crew were satisfied,

Their glorious deed was done.

(Sally Adam, 1983)

If you want to know more about the story behind the win, visit the post at the National Museum Website here

 

Poetry Friday: A Look Back at Summer’s End

It’s Poetry Friday where I join with fellow poetry lovers to celebrate all things poetry. This week, Carol has challenged Poetry Fridayers to find an end-of-summer photo and use it as the inspiration for a poem.

In my part of the world it is not the end of summer. In fact, it is Spring here, and the first hints of Summer are starting to show.  But I love a challenge, so I looked back at the photos I took at the end of the Australian summer, in March.  Additionally, since I am very much a Summer person, and feel a little sad when Summer ends, I thought it would be good to only look for moments of joy.  Turns out, this wasn’t so hard.

Firstly, every year towards the end of Summer, swans visit  the lake in my street. I’m told that they drop in because they are flying from somewhere South of here, to their breeding grounds North of here. Not all stop by – but, when they do, they are usually there for a while.  I love watching them, and they always make for good photo opportunities.  So, here’s my first effort at Carol’s challenge:

When friends drop by

it’s a good time

for a toast.

Bottoms up!

(Poem and photo copyright Sally Murphy, 2023)

Some other friends who visited me in March this year were some kookaburras. I often hear and see kookas around here, but I had never had them so obligingly sit on my (slightly scruffy looking) fence. It was a moment of awe, and of joy.

Summer may be over

but the laughter isn’t.

(Sally Murphy, 2023).

And then there’s George. If you follow me on Instagram you may be very familiar with George (who also has his own Instagram account).  He doesn’t care less about what season it  is, as long as he gets a walk,  and his favourite walk is on the beach –  though to be more accurate it’s a frolic rather than a walk. His more sedate owner does the walking.  Here’s my third effort:

Summer might be over

but that’s okay.

the beach is still here

and so am I

reflecting

on life’s wonders

as I walk each day.

(Poem and photo copyright Sally Murphy, 2023).

All of this reflecting on the end of Summer has been good for me, but I have to confess I am still looking forward to the coming of the new  Summer, and the chance to swim and snorkel and other Summertime pursuits. So I am cheating a little on this challenge and sharing a photo taken just this week. My leucospermum is flowering and, as each little pincushion starts to open, my smile grows.  I love the way my pool fence intrudes into this photo, framing the flower, but also reminding me that soon the pool water will be warm enough for a dip.

Summer is coming!

Golden orbs

herald changing season

filling me with joy!

(poem and photo copyright Sally Murphy, 2023)

Thanks so much Carol for the challenge, which made me smile at memories, and moments to come. Speaking of which, I am off to look at the Poetry Friday roundup, to see what my fellow Poetry Fridayers have to offer on this lovely day.  You are welcome to follow along.

A poem to pair with Queen Narelle

I have been enjoying reading a poetry collection Please Mrs Butler, by Allan Ahlberg (Penguin, 1983) which is a varied collection of poems about school life. One poem, in particular, stood out to me, as being ideal for reading, and discussing, alongside Queen Narelle.

So, If you are  reading Queen Narelle in your classroom, or your home, you might enjoy Small Quarrel, which is available online at the CLP website here,  with a video reading by the poet, which I have also embedded below.

You might discuss the similarities and differences between the poem and the events of Queen Narelle.   I’d love to hear your thoughts!

Poetry Friday: This is Just to Say

This week I have been thinking about where ideas for books, stories and poems come from, which has led to two blog posts – about the origins of Queen Narelle (here) and also Head Hog (here) .

And, as often happens when I start thinking on a subject, I get hyper-focussed (hello ADHD brain!)  and so, when I sorted through some old poems yesterday, and stumbled across the one I’m about to share, I knew I had a topic for a Poetry Friday post – which is very good, because it has been a while since I Poetry Fridayed, in spite of my best intentions.

Anyway, here is the poem I found in my archives:

This is just to say

I have eaten

the cake

that was in

the pantry

 

and which

you were probably

saving

for visitors.

 

Forgive me

We had

no peaches

and no icy plums.

(Sally Murphy, 2017)

If you are a poetry lover, you will probably instantly guess that the idea for this poem came from  the very famous William Carlos Williams poem of the same title, which you can read here.   And you would be correct.

Williams’ poem has a really special place in my heart because it is the first free verse poem I remember being introduced to – in Year 8 English. As in many schools, we were asked to write our own ‘This is Just to Say’ poems.  I have a really visceral memory of realising that poetry could be about anything – and, importantly, did not have to rhyme.  I was already a great lover of poetry, but this poem changed my life!

Later, much later, I wrote Pearl Verses the World, in which Pearl’s relationship with her Granny is heighted by their shared loved of poetry.   Pearl remembers:

One day Granny read me   

A poem

About a man stealing a plum.

(Sally Murphy, 2009)

and her surprise that it didn’t rhyme. Granny’s response:

…didn’t you know

A poem does not have to rhyme?

It does not have to be written

In a certain way

At a certain time.

No.

A poem comes

When it is needed

And writes itself

In the way it needs

To get its point across. 

(Sally Murphy, 2009).

Of course, this little scene is a nod to Williams’ poem (as well as to the lovely relationship between Pearl and her much-loved Granny). But I don’t name the poem – which means not all readers will know the allusion, and that is fine.  But, a few years after the book was published, it was made into a play by Jigsaw Theatre in Canberra, and I was fortunate enough to go and see the play.  Seeing my book come to life in this way was always  going to be amazing, but there was the most AMAZING moment when, at a key point in  he play, some lines from Williams’ poem were cleverly revealed on the stage.  I cried. The producers had not only figured out the allusion but had cleverly incorporated part of the poem into the set.

I could write about this all day, but to get back to the poem I wrote in 2017,  several years later:  while working on my Doctorate, focussing on children’s poetry, I decided to experiment a little with using famous poems as mentor texts. And, of course, I had to use Williams’ poem.  I tried to picture what food it would be that I would be unable to resist – and chocolate cake seemed likely. But those plums had to get a mention too!

Speaking of being unable to resist things – I am off to check out more poetry courtesy of my fellow Poetry Fridayers. You can, too, by following the roundup hosted this week by Rose.