I know it - but do not speak of it.
Dear Monty, June has been a frenetic month both in the garden in terms of growth and in my life. Rosamund Davies visited the garden on the last day of May - perhaps it was the anticipation of the visit and the gnawing doubt about its ability to speak the message that I have been trying to carve out in it - that made my dreams the night before so vivid. Dreams are another landscape - another life not of the material. A strange level of existence outside of all things tangible. We dominate this earth - we have grand visions and great ideas all of which begin within our soft encased brain - all electricity, fluid and synapse. Our lives are miraculous, strange and awesome. God be in them even if we are unaware of such an existence - or whether we know the name or where the presence dwells. Perhaps the name should not even be uttered. Back in the land of the living - this tortuous land where we hear of such violence - perpetrated on behalf of one name over and above anothe...