A call to action ?

 

One of our regular routes takes us past an unassuming semi with a driveway . The driveway has pots of all shapes and sizes with a surprising array of plants in them . A leisurely browse will generally yield several gems . 

The owner is short and well rounded with her hair in a white bun . She is strangely elusive . She will exchange a few remarks with you and when you turn round to reply she has vanished . Scuttled away like a hedgehog . More than once I have not seen her go towards the road or behind a bush and certainly she has not passed me for her side gate or her front door . She has simply , inexplicably disappeared . 

Today we stopped in the wet and dark and I walked gingerly through the pots to the front door . 

I rang the bell prepared to have made a gesture and left . 

After a minute or two the front door opened a crack and two piercing pale blue eyes appeared . The eyes were an unusually pale blue ( mine are bright blue but not as piercing or that shade of ice blue ).

I explained I had bought various plants across the year and paid through the letterbox . I said that I wanted her to know that my garden was flourishing because of her . I wished her a happy Christmas and held out a rather nice jar of jam .

The door opened on a lit hall and she stepped forward . 

"Do you have rosemary " she said . I said I didn't ( which was not true as I have planted a whole hedge from rosemary and lavender cuttings )

She looked at me very intently and I felt she could see everything I had ever done .

"Wait here " she said shortly and scuttled away . I waited . She scurried back .

" I did not grow this rosemary tree  " she said . "my friend did , she planted it with love and tended it until it grew into a tree , with  love ". 

"She gave me five of these and told me to give them to the right people ". " I cannot charge you for this because it has love in it - do you understand me ? "

I said that I did and took the tree from her . We regarded one another squarely . 

This was not at all what I had intended or expected to happen . She stepped back , I thanked her and turned . The door shut .

I said to the saxophonist " do I look needy ? " He said i was probably one of the least needy people he knew . 

I will never know who the other four " right " people are and I am still thinking through something which feels like much more than a sum of its parts .

Agreed ?

 

I have gathered sea holly from the wilder parts of the estuary . Just enough to mix with the traditional holly from the garden . The sea holly is blue grey and has no berries . The garden holly has lots of red berries . The two sit oddly well together . 

The sea holly has sharper points and they come off invisibly . I climbed shoe - less on furniture to put the two hollies over picture frames . I need not , I am sure , go into detail of what ensued . 

The butcher in the village nearby does the very best herb sausage meat to compliment a bird . The ride home goes into the wilds and just after the goose farm four firs sit on a bank . 

A cry went up "back up ! " , "back up !".

The thick branch I choose was , the saxophonist said  , too  thick to come off clean . I looked disappointed and it came off clean .

I went to the recycling centre for a new tea pot and some paperbacks .There , amongst the bric a brac was a gold and opaque glass sphere . Flat bottomed and open necked . 

They never slaughter the geese at the goose farm. They are a constant feature  of the landscape ,  year round  .

I am writing this by the " tree " in the sphere nursing " sea holly feet " . A pile of paperbacks sit enticingly nearby and a large brown tea pot sits on the draining board . 

Life can be water and dry bread . Or it can be a mug of good strong tea and thickly buttered crunchy toast .I believe you can choose and probably a lot more than you suppose .

The geese have no reason to disagree .

Comment verification nonsense !

 

Blogger had put on comment verification I gather . Assume this is standard on " new blogger ".

I have taken it off .

Gammon and Larkin .

 

Larkin , in his poem " An Arundel tomb " makes the point that

" They would not guess how early in
Their supine stationary voyage
The air would turn to soundless damage ,
How soon succeeding eyes begin
to look not read . "

When the monuments went up ,  the person it commemorates and the person who paid for it were known to the viewer .
Now , we don't read it like that , we concentrate more often on the skill of the maker , the boggling amount of children on the plinth or the beauty of it and what it unexpectedly reveals says Larkin , or something like it .

These lovely things can be a record , a form of respect , vanity , resultant of a promise kept .

A rewriting of the history of a man who was less than he might have been in some areas of his life .

A humorous or political point made and now lost or partially obscure now .

The monument to Sir Anthony Rowley sits in a church I sometimes visit in Suffolk . The poem " a frog he would a wooing go "is about him . 

"A frog he would a wooing go

Hey ho says rowley

Whether his mother would like it or no

With a rowley , powley , gammon and spinach

hey ho says anthony rowley .

There are local families called Rowley , Powley , Gammon and ( unusual ) Spinach .

On Sir Anthony's statue he wears an earring . It is of a frog .

The full significance of the poem and the frog earring are not known .

The Larkin poem is ( of course ) very good  - if you don't know it , have a look .

Serenity .

  

As the light fades the sky is overcast with peach and dark blue clouds . Here and there the sunlight and sky blue of the day show through . On the dull blue water sea gulls sit swaying on the tide . 

When the sunlight breaks through it rests on the white backs of the gulls . It makes them golden and lit up .

In the fading light they look like so many fireflies . 

The way the sun sits .

 

The way the sun sits this evening gilds the birds . There are silver seagulls on the wing . Their gleam will only be extinguished by the night . 

Meanwhile I wait for Friday when , they say , the heat will abate . 

Till then I languish . A melting ice lolly . languorous . lazy . Letting the book on my lap fall shut . 

By the end of the week I should be able to watch the rain wash the dust from the blackberries and elderberries . For now though the preserving pan and my attendant plans can wait . 

There is silence and a slight breeze to keep me occupied .

Swan or shorn ...........

Such is the nature of the fields around the estuary that what , from a distance , looks like a field of sheep is sometimes a large flock of grazing swans . 

I love to look at the white origami of the shapes in the distance and as we draw near take further clues . 

It can be a puzzle ,  like one of those photographs of a familiar object taken from an odd angle .

Which is better to discover sheep or swan ?

Along the way some fields have been cut and the  stubble ploughed in . The soil is a rich brown and could only be improved, you feel , by some custard and double cream .

Before lock down I had my hair cut by a " ladies hairdresser " and not a " good cutter " . A " good cutter"  is more often to be found in the city whilst a " ladies hairdresser"  would only be there for the  Ideal home exhibition .......

So , bad cut , dye growing out, split ends and hair generally indicative of much sea . salt and beach time spent post lock down .

Then , last Saturday ,  on one of those impulses , I dashed through the rain to a " good cutter "  . 

I took a chance never having been there before . 

I mentioned Annie Lennox , he nodded and cut . He cut and razored down the lengths until they were all gone and there was my natural brown hair minus the "stubble " of the split ends , dye etc .

Which is better swan or shorn ?

I smiled into the mirror, paid him a fortune and sashayed out into the rain .

Do I look hot ?

Yes .

Sand .

Little boys run up and down the beach like sand pipers .

The vivid green of the sea holly is that of pea pods .A small dog with a red collar raises his head and sniffs the salt in the air .

I collect a bag of bladderwrack . I love the smell of seaweed as the best of smells . 

I shall hang it by the back door tomorrow . 

It is not , as some would , hung as a weather barometer . for any fool knows that if the seaweed is wet it is raining ! 

No , it hangs there so that when I open the door on a damp morning I smell the shore again and mentally cancel what can wait . 

It is always good to listen to what the waves have to say .

Sometimes a bit of lonely is nice .

As lockdown has eased its been baguettes on the beach . 

( we are in the car or away from it on a wide lonely beach - sometimes a bit of lonely is nice .) 

Sand between my toes and a sunny breeze on my lockdown hair .

We went again on my birthday . Well , there's no gallery or museum so that was what I chose .

  Good choice - it was that soft rainy day and everything was so green and blue in the landscape .

Down the back roads with red legged partridges trying to race the car and hawks riding the soft air currents . Out along the estuary to a philosophical ocean which takes 2020 as par for the course for humans and gets on with slapping the quay .

Today , though , I stayed at home . The saxophonist went to the allotment . Planting in the poly tunnel I interrupted him him asking him to bring back some broad beans .He held me up going on about his erection . 

I know and he insisted on telling me ,  in depth  , about the runner bean frame he was about to erect . 

He isn't normally one for the double entendre  and I have already told him to use the hair clippers he bought to make him attractive again .

 So your guess is as good as mine . At least I'll get some runner beans out of it . They are my favourite - perhaps that was it .

So I got him off the line and got on with my own gardening .I'd bought some unusual poppies from road side stands so they went in the front garden . It's a blaze of cottagy English garden just now .

The back garden is all greens . You go through an old Victorian passage and out among beds of ferns and herbs  . A green jungle .

( The space that isn't beds is carpeted with oyster shells we collected over a winter with strange tides  . They came in  , hundreds and hundreds of them .  I usually collect sea glass but this was a winters project . )

There is a recycled table with a toughened glass top and half a dozen heavy fold up wooden chairs .

There's a bench at the bottom in the shade of an old Victorian wall . 

I've recently acquired a large statue of a naked boy . The statue has carved drape fabric so that his buttocks are on show and his " construction for runner beans " is veiled .

Anyway , then to all the new plants for the back garden and fresh herb seeds in the cold frame .

Round the naked boy I've put nasturtiums and morning glory . In due time he will have some snakes head fritillary as a companion and later he can gaze on jasmine .

So when I had done that lot and watered it all in I made some good coffee .

I sat at the table with the coffee and a cigarette .

 Under a blue , blue sky I and naked boy enjoyed the slight breeze and time to think our own thoughts at leisure . 

I thought how good this feels - the quiet . the coffee , the cigarette and the green , green garden .

I have no idea what naked boy thought . Experience earlier in the day made me incline to the view that it is sometimes better not to know what the male species wants to tell you .

After all I was hot , muddy and tired and not a bit concerned about why naked boy was showing off his arse - lets not forget that sometimes a bit of lonely is nice . 

Bear witness

 

My fellow blogger and friend has put up a post for Thursday 4th of June .

She is on blogger and her blog is called 37 paddington .

I know I have many visitors who prefer not to comment ( and some who do ) .

Can I ask you to go over to the post .

I want people to know what she has written .

Four metres long and two metres wide .

The shed we inherited at the plot turned out , in actuality , to be a tool store . It is not tall enough for me to stand in .
I had visions of sitting contented in the door way on a rainy day with a steaming mug of tea .
To be truthful that was half the idea .Leisured cosiness out of the rain and all that implies .

Word came to us that a fellow plotter had bought his daughter a poly tunnel . She then announced she was moving and did not want it .

Sooo .... two hundred quid's  worth of poly tunnel ours for fifty quid .

Today we cleared the area where we will erect it .

I ache all over and that's after a long soak in the bath and one of my steak and onion pies .
My hands , arms , legs , belly and upper lip all have deep ugly bramble scratches .

Was it worth it I hear you ask ?

I reply  : OH yessy , yes , yes .

I am going to brew tea in there . I'm going to read a paperback in a chair in there . I'm going to think about everything and nothing in there . Heck , I may even plant seeds in there .

What I really want to do in there is a secret ....... however, if you should pass and there is loud unladylike snoring coming from the poly tunnel you will know my wish has come true .

Doves and fennel seeds .

A blogging friend sits , she says , and in the other room her husband is making cooing noises .
There is a Mourning dove that comes to the window sill of their locked down New York apartment . He and the dove chat in their language then both go back to their respective lives .

I was walking along and a surly looking man appeared in the opposite direction . I crossed over and we came closer , each in separate " lanes ".
He glared at me .
I glared at him .
Then on impulse I grinned and gave him a thumbs up His face split into a broad grin and he gave me a very vigorous wave . We grinned until we passed each other .


In the supermarket I stood by the herbs and spices . An asian man stood at the other end .
This  time they had curry leaves .
" Aah " I said delightedly as my hand shot out to claim the little jar ."
" Oh ",  said the asian man " you got what you wanted ".
"What did you want ?" I said .
 "Fennel seeds " he said sadly .
I looked  along the racks at my end " They're here "I said and pointed to a couple of jars that were left . His face lit up and I left him to claim his prize .


On MiSoul radio ( a digital station specializing in soul music ) one of my favourite DJ's says he will play his favourite down load  that we have all fallen for .

Across Twitter and Facebook people announce to him their intention to dance in their kitchens .

Wailing raunchy sax ensues and there we are all singing with Norma Jean Bell " I'm the biggest bitch in the room ".
We all felt better for that .


There isn't enough ham for two so I open a small tin of salmon for the saxophonist's baguette .
Mayo , cucumber and lettuce are introduced and I hope he won't moan about the substitute .
" I did enjoy that " he says  .

Inconsequential specks of satisfaction but enough to keep the traction going .

That wonderful blue .

I imply no naivety no element of hysteria or delusion .
What I wrote about was how adversity can leave you bereft or enriched . I do feel that we can be energized or surprised by life and that stoicism mistimed can be stodge .
 There is a deeper wisdom for those with sharp vision and an open mind .
I think this chimed with some readers and not so much with others .
I have quoted Phillip Pullman before who said that you can't pick up a piece of wood with a magnate . Anyway to other matters ...

We , who don't get our deliveries queue at a distance and are exasperated or tickled by others stance on how to shop .
I have made a remark to a queue jumper and I have been exasperated by people dithering at the shelves .
I had to smile at myself though .
An expected ingredient was missing so I made a quick mental calculation about a reasonable substitute and put it in the trolley . I turned and saw someone patiently waiting for their turn at the shelf .

I thanked them and thought  ,  don't use the term ditherer if  you may be deliberating about your choice ,  what is the difference between the perceived ditherer   (see what I did there )   and your good self .
The answer is of course is bugger all .
We are all human and that made me smile too .  Are there people who think they are not ? Well that makes me smile as well .

So we drove away and I said " can you stop please ".
The saxophonist pulled in at the side of an empty country road and we opened the doors to solitary fresh air and silence .

Little by little though , a cacophony arose .
 I looked up and in the hedge and tree above it fluttering , singing and shouting were a flock of newly fledged blue tits .
Their  heads were that wonderful blue and their tiny chests were part yellow already . They were not afraid . They hopped , shouted and sung about  white clouds  , green leaves , their beauty , my beauty .....  oh and your beauty too .

Celebrate what remains .
 Savour all the small pleasures and satisfactions .

Oh and remember the baby blue tits think you're beautiful .

Query .

I was trying to think where in human history there was a parallel for our current malaise .

When pestilence or plague came before we did not know enough to keep apart .
Yes , a mark would be put on the door of an infected house and people wore masks when moving bodies . This would be regional , localized if you like , it wasn't comprehensive .

Individuals have been put in quarantine or isolation wards . Individuals have been " sent to Coventry ". Again this was specific to a small group or an individual .

Wars and famines have made some things hard to get or unobtainable . The places that dealt in the various commodities diversified or just painted from a more limited palette so to speak .

So now when streets are silent and shops shut what do we reference ?
 In the last war people came together at the pub , the pictures , in churches and canteens . So we must try a bit of lateral thinking ( aside from social media ) to make all of this workable and in some ways palatable .
 Pandora's box is already open and we don't have the mind set of a medieval man .

Some talk of this being a deserved reckoning for too many imports , global warming ,pollution  and the dubious merits of some plastics .

I think you need a cruel god or people who think accusation or recrimination useful to make that work .

So in this is uncharted territory will new ideas emerge ?

There are people who's lives have changed for good and people whose lives have not had to alter very much at all .

It's a given that all can be more kind , more thoughtful - human beings do that sometimes .

What I want to know is if this shit storm can ultimately give us something back from all it is taking .

Is this heresy and if so  is it a good heresy ?

A slapdash rainbow .

As I go to buy groceries I pass houses with pieces of paper taped to the front window .

They are all children's drawings of a rainbow .
Some are very precise , great effort has been made to keep the lines of colour properly delineated.

Others are by a smaller hand and consequently more in the spirit of drawing a rainbow rather than capturing something more technical .

I passed a house standing on it's own and in a bedroom window was another large rainbow .

Whoever had painted it had clearly wanted to make their own symbol of hope ( as they all are ) .
The young would be artist had clearly had trouble with his brush , the paint on offer and , rather obviously , the water provided to rinse his brush in .

Quite frankly the thing wasn't very good. It wouldn't win any prizes .
However , you could see what it was supposed to be and you could see that our young artist had , perhaps rather over enthusiastically , given it his best shot .

My wish for anyone who might read this that they may have a slapdash rainbow in their heart tonight .

Ginger .

When we need to shop we stay out of the town and go to  big supermarket set alone and with a big car park . Seems sensible , just us in out little metal box ( car ) keeping a good distance from all . We pick a time when it's likely to be quiet and all is well .
Especially well when , driving out of town , I spy my first cowslip of the year . Little proud numbers . Hope from root to lemony bloom .

The supermarket , well that changes each time you go .
I began by going with a shopping list and , like us all , quickly wised up .
I don't do a shopping list anymore . I do a wish list .
If that turns out to be a trip to fantasy island I , then , think what I could make from what's there - like we all do .
 How lovely though when you can get a versatile basic staple .
 It's getting better each time you go .
Even so , the Saxophonist went shopplng the other day . He came back and produced something from his shopping bag . It was a pound of mince .
I nearly wet my knickers !!

I'm enjoying adverts at the moment . You can't get any of it so it's become a sort of porn I s'pose . In reality I don't really need or want these things but that doesn't matter .
I can go theoretical shopping without limits - just go wild .
This week , for instance , I have bought five cars and I don't even drive .
I'm also in for five bottles of scent . As they are all theoretical I can put them all on at once and not worry that I shall be followed by a posse of half crazed household pets . I could gargle with the blessed stuff .
Of course theoretical purchase has it's limits . I have eyed up that nice looking black guy on the furniture advert . I mean , fair enough , but where would I put him and he might want to work his way through the ginger cake I've just made .
No better to leave him bouncing on his sofa .

Got an e mail to say Jamie Oliver has rushed through a TV series that's currently airing early evening on channel four . It's for helping non cooks make something to eat and for the rest of us a few ideas about workable alternatives and variations when our " wish lists " come up short .
I stoically watch what Boris has to say every night but the Jamie Oliver has moved me to tears every night . He says " come on , we can do this ". I believe him to be sincere .
He says  " we are all in this together ". We are .
In my heart of hearts I believe we shall get through this and with some unexpected gains , finding ourselves to be much more resilient and self sufficient than we imagined .

I have no soap box here but if you are sitting on your own reading this , close your eyes and have a slice of fiery ginger cake and a good strong mug of tea with me .

Water is immortal .

Went miles out today , to a seascape .

I looked at the water and thought " you have seen everything . Choppy or becalmed  , you have been witness to loss and gain , defeat and victory over and over again .

I thought we would be all but alone out there but we weren't .

Woolly hatted and carrying a thermos ,  people came . People of all ages , classes and types . One group had fold up chairs and a wind break on the shingle .

I looked at the sea again and , beautiful as it was today , I thought  "you aren't the only one . Whether it's oxtail or Nescafe in the Thermos , metaphorically speaking , it's clear that the human spirit is immortal , it carries us forward , tenacious , alive to beauty , alert to common sense ."

Neither the Telegraph nor the Guardian with  all their stats , commentators and editorials can fathom how powerful , and moving , it was , in spite of all , to see somebody hammer in a windbreak on the shingle today.

Arriving .

Because we could we took on the weather .
 All the batten down the hatches days since Christmas and others as well . There we have been , out in the landscape .

On Sunday , as the storm whirled away ,  we slid by highway and mostly byway to a seascape .

The choppy sea jumped and sloshed , jumped and sloshed . Cormorants scud the sky to hidden havens . We each ate a thoughtful ham sandwich .

I said that the sky , being apricot , sky blue and charcoal grey ,  would make me a lovely dress in swishy satin and rough silk . The saxophonist agreed .

Back at home , either side of the table , we cupped big mugs of steaming tea .
 I said "Glorious though it is , do you want to do that anymore ? "
"No " said the saxophonist .
"Me neither " I said .

We realized we had no need to do it anymore . We have moved on .

This morning I rolled over with intent .
"Yes " said the saxophonist .

Sometimes the destination is right where you are .