He is gone.
Suddenly, in the blink of an eye,.
He supported me so, when I lost my hair, when I wept for it.
And now he is gone,
And I weep for the loss of him,
I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him;
The evil that men do lives after them,
The good is oft interred with their bones.
(Mark Antony’s speech in the play Julius Caesar by William Shakespeare where Antony has agreed to abide with Brutus not to place blame on the conspirators – which he fails in quite dramatically with the use of sarcasm)
What I love most at the start of this speech is the two lines “The evil that men do lives after them, The Good is oft interred with their bones”
How true is this? I have found it so, goodness is often quietly given, evil even if slight is often remembered.
I wish I could express myself like the great writers so as you, my readers could understand the passion with which I speak. But my feet are made of clay, so may I present, the good that people do, given ever so quietly.
You may see just a simple bunch of daffodils, but to me, well they are so much more. They are a gift given with love, friendship and caring, which I will hold for ever dear. I won’t embarrass my friend but thank you so much for them and taking the time. I’d also like to say thank you to the message sender for her deep friendship, kindness and caring. You both know who you are.
And then I would like to tell you about the women, of which there were many, who have read my blog over the years and sent by post or given to me in person their spare Noro Kureyon which has all been encompassed into my Lizard Ridge blanket. I have loved each and every gift and have carefully incorporated your wool into my blanket to the best of my ability, your love, friendship and caring will remain with me forever, most often in a woolly cuddle deep in the midst of winter.
I started my Lizard Ridge in January 2008, who knew it would take so long, and it is still not completed.
Along the way there have been wonderful surprises where deeply saturated coloured yarn, often entangled with each other have fallen out of envelopes or bags to be met with my highly pitched sound of glee.
The blanket, my blanket with the yarn of others, freely given, is sewn up. I love it so. And I can’t quite believe that it is mine. It is just too beautiful to be mine. I have crocheting to do, of which I have to decipher the American crochet to the English version, I will try tomorrow.
But until then, here is a close up of my Lizard Ridge,
at this point, I would like to say a special thank you to Carie and Diane who spent the best part of their knitting time helping me to place the squares for maximum effect.