fellow in a lurid tabard, frog shower cap (again)… and a tree
stewarding, sunday, buddhafield weekender…. a day of near perpetual rain, the whole smorgasboard gamut, full pelt raindrops through to the softest faze of drizzle
peaceful on shift, sheltering beneath this majestic beech… a fallen down standing up tree!… once so tall, now so long!
a world wind upended, 90 degrees, exposed roots, yet some still manage to wriggle down to push up branches… earth, loam juice to plump out leaves
a peaceful place somewhere on the edge… ‘gate at the far end of live-ins, just above slope’, my snappy walkie talkie identifier
i am an admirer of margins, sublime of the liminal… forgotten land, often the most fertile
hogweed, on steroids, this vast british bamboo… coils of brambles, thick as my arm, spikes that gouge
a liliputian within this world, overgrown, a writhe and tussle of senses, smells, colours, an orchestra… bindweed flower, a bright, white trumpet.. sweet woodbine, pong of honeysuckle ukelele?
fennel as dendrite fractal… hairy moss like dirty bathwater stains the trunk of a tree… splurge of lichen mandala
bend down, to see the lopped beech branches fashioned into the shape of an opening
portal to another land, guarded by a single proud, vigilant nettle… gatekeeper
realm of enchantment… this after, whilst on shift, long ambient chats with chantal… lucidity.. land of the fae, where colours are brighter, songs both more mournful, yet stirring
this realm is always here, hugging us like a shadow… sometimes, at the midday of rational thought, clenched tight and close, almost invisible
yet, in a wester-ing sunset light, it flickers, seems to stretch out far across valley, immense in landscape
except, flip side, a world wind upended, here is but the shadow of there… yearn surrender, relax, lapse, fall back into the honeyed realm
articulate beauty, the word, but a cardinal direction always with a playful warmth… teeter edge of pomposity, po faced, a man with both a moustache and a manifesto!
ooops… woken up, head full of the jumble of word drool, just a brief jotting down, ha
at my sisters, for some very pleasant rest, headed back to festie later this morning
despite the gloop of mud, its been a laugh so far… many fabulous people… a chance to dance!… guess you gotta kiss a lot of frogs
anyway… hurrah for festies, land, connection!
reply to Al: totes! be brill to see you guys… ha, one year amma in kerala, the next a field of buddhas xx
bring wellies, obvs, forecast is good, but a quagmire of mud will take a while to dry out!
it’ll dry out… plus only half the number of folks, so won’t be too bad… tho always best to bring sturdy clobber as well as your sunshine frocks! x