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Showing posts from April, 2015

Micro

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Dear Monty, Warm days soon to be turned to cold and wet - hard to believe on such a beautiful day - but the satellites tell us so. I delight in the garden in spring, it takes you low to the ground as everything happens there first before the leaves fill out the trees and shrubs. The spring flower succession has improved year on year here since I have allowed self seeding and natural multiplication. When too many plants start to crowd, that is when I move them to new positions. As the daffs die back - violets bloom in a sudden abundance with forgotten forget-me-nots springing up where I did not plant them ! Cowslips also surprise me as they create a tapestry among older plantings of aquilegia and flag irises - it is just thrilling because they arise from what was seemingly dead ground. The 'lawn' daises wake up and the quaking grass sprouts. Common blue, speckled wood, comma and peacock butterflies all on the wing. A buzzard ov

Fire and ashes

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Dear Monty, Fire Like a dream Lit up in orange Blast of heat making waves out of the plastic fence Sparks like fiery falling stars litter the sky Acrid smoke makes noxious clouds The cracking of dry wooden bones splitting our ears Gas cylinders hiss then throw a torch of blue flame toward the house No-one hurt in this fire thank God Unlike the hurt I caused by my own explosion Damaging as any physical fire. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Ashes Kindness, gentleness and self control These I lack All I have is ashes. Paul. (The fire damaged our neighbours outbuildings and hedges and the gas bottles didn't explode because the pressure blew the valves up in the air and threw them into his garden!)

Hills Monty, hills, portrait and violets

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Monty, A day in the hills above the castle of the night.  Violets in the pots Portrait in the making Paul.

Living, dying, willow and eggs (a letter to you and Giles Fraser)

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Dear Monty (and Giles), We all love spring, it heaves us out of the dead dreary winter. It is no coincidence that Easter is fixed at this point of the year with its lengthening days and warmth bringing  hope to the bones. But is the festival Christianity celebrates really all about life ? As usual I've thought on these things over the last few days. 30/3/15 Storms blow around the house. Does Christ's death have anything to teach me ? If Christ had not died I would still be dead and not really understand the death that I lived, although vaguely aware of it in the injustice and horror committed by man upon man and woman and the environment. I would be dead to a life that is held in a secure place not affected by the vagaries of weather or politics or doubt or our incessant territorial ism. It is a death that brings peace. I realise that this can sound exclusive but this peace is truly inclusive. Peace wrought through a death I could not die - this brings me hope that l