audio of text (plus distant motorbike!)

idle pensée… hunkered down on the brow of the hill, gorse flowers, dense clumps of dragon goblet gold
blackthorn with straggled open branches, creamy froth of blossom, the impossible festoon from each smidgin of surface
hawthorn pushes through into soft green leaf
the spell of water… peering down upon a pond, which in turn yields up the sky, a nuanced, mottled reflection of clouds… nuage
a riff on the idea of ‘sky’, with its serpent deeper, more sonorous timbre, tone and flow
minuet between air and water, the surface wind ruffled, pucker kiss stippled
we are forever poised between this up and that down!
bramble snag of mind, wistful, the yearning to tell is always one of the forms of love?

skinny love

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skinny love!… thats the astonishingly yum nettle pesto spaghetti rather than me
teetering on the edge of doolally already… woke up somewhat manic monday this morning, which at least is a change from a week of being weary and despondent
a glut of meditation, yoga and cleaning the shower!… daughter has sensibly retreated to her room

nettle heart

gotta love the nettle-age, snot coloured punk superstar of the spring!
in some rustic, bucolic fantasy he’d gather dainty lace doilie fashion around the fringes of the woods
nah round here they loiter in huge clumps on any patch of wasteland, a vibrant fresh green swathe carpet covering broken glass and rusty shopping trolleys
broken ground, nettles love to be around humans, alledgedly they came over with the Romans… rust iron, sacred to aries, god of war and this months heavenly ruler
like many masculine energies, often maligned, theres also a tender, benign side
i tend to pick them with snip scissors and holey cotton gloves… the holes not on purpose but the occasional frisson of a sting keeps you woke!
tingle-age even now, a very very mild electric shock
what shall i do with them? juice most likely? but possible pesto, fricasse?… not let them languish too long at the bottom of the fridge anyway!
blessings on the sunshine and my current freedom to roam up the cliffs… respite from the collective energy field of worry x

seeds are good

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sEeds are good… sEEeeeeds are good… as surely the shamen were singing?
traditionally my drabbest photo of the year… i mean its lumps of earth… tho some might well argue my usual slew of selfies border on tedium
but, but seeds… think of the awesome potential!
the eagle eyed may well have spotted the pots are somewhat crudely in the shape of an Om… i chanted the universal seed sound, Ommmmm, over them afterwards… biodynamic innit!??
I don’t really know what i’m doing, but bung them in some soil, sunshine, water… we all flourish better with the right conditions
the most fun bit is always planting last years toms (i have perfected the rare november / never fruiting tomato)… just burst the old fruits over the the tray and admire the seedy slobber gloop
i tend to mark them with little cardboard signs, which rot at the first watering, so then i have no idea, when finally they pop up, which seedling is which!
this year as well as the usual toms, chillis and miscellanious squashes i’m trying runner and dwarf beans
anyway first day of home alone for me, grateful, amongst so many other things for a back yard and the sunshine
strange times, no idea where all this is going, stay home, stay healthy, love to y’all x


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Urbane! Kurt Urbane. At my best, from a flattering aspect, i am a kindly and charming soul…
if you were to meet me in a cafe in some far distant land (as some of you have), why then i would amuse and bamboozle with oft uttered anecdotes…
smoothe like sea glass… some suave weather beaten leathery lump o’ wood?
love to talk, yet also to listen… world piques us curious… together we make something…
first on the dance floor, and often the last to leave… when i hear the sound of my own laugh, why it makes me laugh even more!
What be the wisdom of age? why a certain baggy capacity, a knowing that i am enough
braggard, smug egotism? of course! but thats just a single facet, not so hot on days where the usual neurosis, renders me near incapable of tumbling out of bed…
apparently my love of selfies is a feature of libra ascending? and in snaps nowadays, it’s a choice twixt smiling or having eyes! happy or eyes? eyes or happy! bastard choice
yes, the visage of somebody, thus far, blessed with benign circumstances
… and that ‘capacity’, a result of all the times life has threatened to capsize, yet the love of others has somehow buoyed me up
we are stronger for the beautiful enduring nexus of our connections
of course life and time will ultimately chew us all up, we all know that
but yeah, in the beautiful, brief boon, of the lull of now, why, best surely, to enjoy being you?!!

less words, more likes, but always i enjoy the song of my own saying
hmm ‘urbane’, for a pic in the countryside? isn’t it ironic… alanis morissete stylee!

reply to Rhona

ha! thanks love, my eyes radiate a benign cosmic charm… or not… have to rely on the subtle sunset light nowadays
i also have the dilemna… smile and have no eyes? or eyes and no smile… eyes or happy… happy or eyes?! difficult when you just love to guffaw!
anyway if you guys are ever over sussex way pop by and stay… plenty of room for the family… be great to see ya (it’s been a while) xxx

reply to Hannah

Thanks… Wellington bootifull… Was up to me midrift in mud (slight exaggeration)… But, obvs, always worth it for a selfie… Holi looks like it was a blast! Xx