went for a walk in friston forest, stomp thru mud, the trees in their dun autumn raiment ‘down amongst the dead men. feathers in their head men, pow wow’… popped by the church hidden deep within the woods, to admire the jacobean monument, piety with a flounce of ruffs, the inevitable memento mori skull, but perched high up on top, a carving of a rather gleeful looking spotty dog.
on leaving S noticed a butterfly trapped, struggling to free itself from a cobweb, high, high up on the church wall, so there we were (me aware of the slightly heavy handed symbolism), standing outside an ancient flint church, lobbing sticks skywards, not the full force hurtle of trying to knock a bushel of raw conkers down, but with the intention of precision, of gentleness
eventually… one hundred and eighty… the butterfly was freed, it flopped, wafting down, a tortoiseshell, i held it in my hands, on the outside camouflaged as a drab leaf, it opened its wings, brazen orange, vibrantly patterned… and flew away. Happy Halloween
susan seddon boulet
Richard Basgallop long winded as ever, but gonna dance in a church in a graveyard tonight. whOooOo, very scooby doo! met a huge toad this morning, have gathered all the witches familiars! …. thinking rather obviously (and thankfully abstractly) about death, not only will one day we die, but everybody we love, everything we know, will pass into darkness… beyond even the promise of spring, of the souls rebirth, or the endless beautiful re-patterning of form… and yes, this is the way it must be