lost in fort

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sigh, so mired in it, that it took me nearly a year to manifest a pun since i first concocted it!
some subtle prompt is telling me to head left… swiftly
cogs whirr slowly… first elderflowers garnered for tea (‘thank you grandmother elder’), honeysuckle and still some vibrant fresh young nettle-age neath the trees deeper shade! x


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VOTE! i just have (signalling virtue), green of course, currently not interested in any other narratives… be warned, don’t expect a benign outcome…
i was nearly bowled over by a stampede of drear old people up at the hillcrest… well, older than me anyway
amd tho i could not ascertain their intentions, and indeed many of them were after the last remaining currant bun and tickets to the next tea dance, it does not bode well
yes lives are busy, but seriously, find time and vote!
… and in homage to the grey, here are 2 stereoscopic pics of ‘not the moon’ … queens park last weekend (i’m a-living in the past!) and saturdays brekkie, scoffing the fickle yum of the moon x

hawthorn 19

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hawthorn afternoon! with little or no forethought ended up gathering some of the beautiful blossoms for the annual tincture
do it now! a post mostly to remind you thus! they’ll be gawn in less than a week… i love the hawthorn, flower of aphrodite, queen of the may
such an opulent pungent pong, huge armfulls of the stuff, all sprawled across the kitchen table
sure theres lots of proper info out there, don’t listen to me, but what i do:
gather the flowers and some of the freshest tenderest leaves
lob in a big jar, pack down with a wooden spoon, then liberally douse with a litre of lidls finest (cheapest) Wodka…
a prayer then toast to the goddess, finally store in a dark cupboard
thats it!
after about a month remember to take it out, mash squeeze out all the goodness… muslin should be involved, but lawks knows where you get that from?!
in the autumn bung in some haws (the small Rosehip like fruit) to help ramp up the hawthorn-y-ness
it ends up as a rubicund brown, sometimes sludgy, liquid… i keep it in the fridge, super good for the heart!
throughout the autumn and winter start each day with a swig straight from the bottle
should imagine its supposed to be only a few drops? but wheres the fun in that? x

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grammar pedant-ry mz mole… tho this image gives me the creeps… first time i read one fish two fish to Finn when he was a nipper, got an eek flashback turning to this page
didn’t actually remember the image or anything, but knew that i’d read it as a kid, and not been in a very emotionally buoyant space at the time… books are powerful incantatory spells, sometimes there to unlock what is best left buried deep
all from a cheerful post about hawthorn! lummee eck! xx

Beltane 2019


the balm of a beltane eve, midst late dappled sunshine, a meander up the cliffs
conk nuzzled midst apple blossom, wealth of aroma, me and da bumble bee!
as an aside, i love saying the word bumble bee! lolls around the tongue, like a fine golden brandy left oer’long in the cask – bomMmmble bee, bbumble breee
i keep on wanting to break out in bass tuned ‘per rappa pum poms’… omms and apple francophone pommes i guess?
I love the fact that this tree has grown from a casually tossed aside apple core, yesterdays picnic, todays majestic…
none of the ‘sturdy root stock, specially grafted fruit bearing cultivar’ palaver, just nature doing her thing
all abouts the intricate babble of birdsong, flit of gold finch, warble of thrush, the playful jostle of a family of sparrows
all the rest of the hillside is awash with hawthorns, froth blossom just about to burst out, the flower of the may
both the apple and the hawthorn are, of course, members of the Rose family, the rule of the 5 petaled flower, forever sacred to venus
the hawthorn tho is the somewhat spiky, rough and tumble, tousle haired, scraped knees, tom boy cousin… i love the wild, crazy charm of the hawthorn
tomorrow? next week, i shall go forth to gather the flowers for my annual tincture… good for the heart dontcha know!
something in me churlishly wants to disregard the apple, too abundant, too gawdamn obviously pretty
but then you come upon the blessing of her in blossom, blush pink and white flowers, fresh green leaves, the colours a summoning, and also a softening of the heart chakra
amongst the apple blossom we are in the presence of the maiden, enchanted, fall to one knee, with the sweetest of smiles, offer up, be happy
higher up, looking out to sea, a paraglider stitches a line along the edge of the cliffs, blindly feeling out the uprush of thermals
the colours tho remind me that this morning, before a swim, i’d been up here again, watching my first swallow of the year
hurtle appearing from seemingly nowhere, red cap, white flash, the nigh time blue of plumage, his distinctive swoop and weave
the thrill of a gabbling breakneck speed… speaking of nowt but beauty and joy
happy beltane