garnered the last of the tomato harvest, not bad to keep going till all souls day, deep within this season of decrepitude (yep november), harvest may be a tad grandiose for plucking the remaining, four mildewed looking specimens.. and the last lettuce is decidedly iceberg
the magnificent writhe of life! ok, you have to sustain the correct benevolent conditions, earth, this much sunshine, that much water… but the depth and integrity of living soil, plant a seed and see what is coaxed, is conjured forth from the mud, a miracle of the mundane, literally, that of the world
same soil, but a kaleidoscopic diversity, plant basil for flagrant aroma… tomato, the rotund pushed out plumpness of its sheen.. courgette, the veined swagger of its orange flower
always, we can only greet, with flung about amazement, this the summoning forth, (teleology??),
the beauty, the pure becoming of what must be
and for us? pricked with a speck of light, the seed soul buried deep within?

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