Lago di Garda

audio of text

Finn… Lago di Garda April 2002
aw rummaging through old photos, always loved this one of Finn forlorn, a cold rainy day, on holiday in italy
of course, his expression sums up how many of us are feeling through this socially bereft, thin gruel of a winter, well me anyway!
yet nostalgia a more curious beast… remember…
the sun has set behind the looming hills, sky coaxes, then summons colours from the water, turquoise and tangerine
all is serene, a gentle, benign lapping, as a coast dweller i am so used to the qualms of restless water
Finn and I are down on the waters edge, showing him how to skim stones
owl hoots, rhymes and doggerel, building snow men… and stone skipping… a beauty to share fun things with our kids… reminds us, of course, of those who lovingly first taught us
the beach is littered with a myriad of plate smithereens! all blue willow pattern fragments, as tho there had been a frenzied exstasis of crockery smashing! that, or this the site of an old pottery factory?
picking some of the larger fragments, their soft heft, the way they sit, cocked, between finger and palm… surface, blue ink tattooed, super smooth, with a frazzle puzzled glaze
too beautiful to hurl? but we are mightier, more marvelous, by that which we throw away
flat stones. flat lake. perfect.
skip… skip… skip… skip… kersplosh
mind follows this stone weave, away, gentle, softening to this, the distance of memory


audio of text

crikey, only a year ago, yet with all the yawn of lockdown glumness and isolation, feels like several lifetimes
i look so fresh faced and youthful!… well in contrast to gandhi anyway… better hair too, yeah ping pong ball head… there not be many folk i can say that to!
on my way to the giddy throng, the hubbub hullabaloo of sunset in the great shiva fire temple
tiruvannamalai, tamil nadu, i first learnt to pronounce the city by practising with tiramisu and timbuctu (too)
on this day i had loitered amongst the serenity of the Sri Ramana ashram… then followed the trail barefoot (no shoes holy mountain!) to his meditation cave perched part way up Arunachala…
when i got to the temple, no entry in shorts, so had the giggle of buying pyjama troosers in an indian department store, 10 amused staff at my beck and call… masala dosa with basha and some absurdly ornate ornamental goldfish
then finally to the inner sanctum… not much tops the thrill of a southern indian temple city!
today tho, a jaunt up the cliffs, all is mild and muchly waterlogged… birds starting to sing… they believe in the spring?


audio of text

imbolc/st bridgets blessings…. the first quiver of spring
in keeping with the season, i was trying to take a snap of yellow daffodils against a yellow wall, with a glass of lurid effervescent vitamins in the foreground (why?)
yet clearly the springs quiver-riness was too much for me and i must have shooken at an inappropriate moment… the elementals are strong in this one
wheel of the seasons is turning, a beautiful thing x

reply to comment:

Cheers, I thought it was quite enchanting…
Always appreciate the notion of fortuitous mistakes, digital culture encourages the ‘not perfect, chuck it away’ ethos..
Whereas I, ha, tend to side with the wonky misfits