That's lovely Rita - glad you are well!

Thanks Ruth and Stephanie, for taking the time to have a read.

I started reading this thread and got as far as the Flanders Fields poem on page 2 which inspired me to insert a Poem myself that I wrote way back.

Writen by Sylvia Back 1985

The Derbyshire Custom Of Well-Dressing

In seventeen hundred and fifty eight a visitor to Tissington wrote Derbyshire's fate
A village spring adorned with garlands bright inscribed with rhymes was a beautiful sight.
Since that day villages throughout our County have carried on this traditions generous bounty.
Everyone in the village from young to old gets dragged into help or so I've been told.
The pictures surround done on a wooden tray has to be soaked for up to a month people say.
During this time the villagers are not lazy, they're out collecting seeds and flowers like daisies
Collecting the clay in dustbins and sacks it's a job for the men to carry it back.
Later the clay is kneaded like dough; this is time for the children to have a go,
Eventually the clay is like a brown butter, any lumps that are left go in the gutter,
The clay is then put into the frame and levelled off to look all the same.
The drawing is done on some ceiling paper it can sometimes be a bit of a caper,
The pictures then transferred to the clay pricking the outline in a certain way,
The outline is then made more bold by pressing black alder cones into the folds.
By now the time will be getting short the filling in battle needs to be fought,
Adding the petals, seeds, moss and bark, it's a very time consuming lark.
Work being done from the bottom up, using hydrangeas, daisy and buttercup.
Each petal being made to overlap everyone trying to fill up the gaps.
Millions of petals and thousands of seeds is what this garland picture needs.
The last call is again for the village strong men, its known to take anything up to ten,
To lift the picture into its place, be careful not to tumble! Just in case.
Then all that's left is the blessing toast to Father Son and Holy Ghost
To thank them for the water and wells and so rings out our thankful bells.

Sounds fabulous, Sylvia.

Text in this thread that had been copied from another website has been deleted. Please use your own words, thanks dear friends.