There’s a huge magpie sitting right outside my window on the garden fence. It’s wonderful to see a creature like that up close. The feathers are the purest white …like blancoed buttons …a shining white contrasting against the glossy boot black of the long tail feathers. He’s a big fellow too ; almost as big as one of those ready- to- roast chickens. He’s balancing right now with his long tail waving up and down like a wire-walker’s pole.
How does the rhyme go ..”One for sorrow, two for joy…”.People have obviously put great store in sighting a magpie up close, at some time long ago. I wonder where that idea originated. It’s all symbolism and association .Ravens were associated with death, for example, probably because they roosted around church graveyards.Maybe it’s just the way I associate the little robin with my late mother. It’s how superstitions grow. That’s a story for another page though.
One for sorrow,
Two for joy,
Three for a girl,
Four for a boy,
Five for silver,
Six for gold,
Seven for a secret,
Never to be told.
Eight for heaven,
Nine for hell,
And ten for the devil’s own sell
….That’s a strange last line isn’t it? I wonder how you’d interpret that – does “sell” mean “self” in this context?
On another plane , I see news of Stephen Fry’s marriage is in the news..You’ll know of course that 57-year=old Mr Fry , besides being an actor and a rattling good writer, is honest to a fault and has revealed in his writings , a past that most people would probably prefer to cover -up. He is gay , of course and his partner is a much younger man in his twenties. People are already calling his partner a “toy-boy”. My late mother would have wondered which of the partnership would do the housework and which would do the cooking.She wouldn’t have given their gender a second thought; unlike many of our subjects in Norneverlannd who really worry about their bedtime routine.
How times change though. The really good thing about honesty is that no one will be surprised by any skeletons falling out of this closet. Unless he turns out to be a closet Nazi. There’s a lesson in that.
“Then, through the white stillness,/A robin flies gently, fearlessly and unabashed.
And stops over the grave as though aware/That the reason for its mission is hidden from all/But the one waiting in the coffin,/And I envy their strange intimacy.”
‘Adhlacadh mo Mháthar’
Seán Ó Riordáin (1916 – 1977)
What a lovely quotation – thanks, Iolar….
That is pretty profound , Iolar . I often think that there is a primitive ancient part of the brain that connects very deeply with nature at times of personal loss..
Is there really that bluey colour on magpies? or is it computer enhanced,?its beautiful.Ive never seen that colour on a magpie before…pls tell me there is…x
They come in a variety of colours Roisin . I used that image because I found the colours and composition very attractive.. The one I actually described outside my window in the story piece ,was actually much more striking and was jet black and snow white …and very big up close. . Just google for some more information and images and you’ll be surprised at the variety.