Author: basgallop

nettle

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season of the nettle… early morning (before work) foray up the hillside to snip some stingers!
sacred to mars, robust and bristling with vigour, midst the sweet succulence of spring… Red with Iron, they always flourish on disturbed ground… and love being around man… apparently the Romans brought them over… along with the sweet chestnut
can just see them trudging up Watling Street, through puddles, whilst munching on a nettle sandwich… ‘oi spartacus, youv’e got spinach, no nettle, stuck between your teeth… again’ … off to grapple with some celts (‘the long and winding woad!’)
anyway, midst the early morning dew i assumed the appropriate stance, beat my chest three times …. then gave them the finger… they appreciate such theatrical bawdiness
donned the sacred gauntlet, unsheathed the ceremonial knife (marigolds and blunt rusty scissors) and clipped away!
only the toppest freshest tips… a few years back i inflicted nettle soup on the kids and greta… gruel… so today its gonna be penne with nettle and walnut pesto
washed down with a swig of whiskey (doesn’t count if its straight from the bottle)… and some montezuma chilli chocolate. kinda yum! x

tulip

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The Brute throttled Red of Tulips, do like a splash of colour in the park, drawn even deeper with the lack of sun
of course, the hillside plump with gorse, canary yellow, refulgent with the summer pong of coconut butter
over the brim, yes, the wild, wild grey dirge of the sea

Knight of Cups
……..

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this morning, whilst daydream pottering over a cup of Mint and Liquorice tea
found myself being stared down by a cat through the window, Obsidian stillness, killer gaze
curious, goes deep, this the knowledge of being watched, for once we were hunters… and the sometimes hunted
i would prefer wolves? yes she will come, and there will be many
but before, face you down, a moment of stillness, you will know it will happen, you will know
but a leopard? face in the bush? part of that the nameless dread…
dropping silently from above, else stealth pounce, all claw, fang then rend… the candle wick of life, snuffed to nothingness
….

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yeah yeah psssssht, shoo… go poo in someone elses garden!…
ha, gosh gibberish, fortunately don’t get many leopards, or for that matter wolves round these thar parts

table tennis

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These the weeks of leaf spawn
every branch, every tree, bud burgeoning forth, stickily, unfurling into a majesty of leaf and blossom
something of gossamer, a slither, a shimmer, each bush, coming into the pomp of full summer regalia
yesterday in surrey, midst the sunshine, the hillside awash with the blowsy froth spray of white blossoms
a tumult upon us! tho long the clandestine growth, a surreptitious summoning
each branch, so recently a brittle looking stick, dowdy within its surround of mud puddle, now, pulsing with lurid colour and vibrancy
the tweetle twerp of bird song!… rapture in miniature… the local, the particular… this is mine… yes! i am here!
whatever the creak of bone, the reluctance of limb, so too, this season always makes my heart sing

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ha! i write the same thing every time, as does the spring… making, imagining, the same different same… its rhythmic, insistent beauty
…………………………..
….. classic portmanteau post…. i finally turned the clock in the car forward… yes, as well you might have noticed, the seasons have changed
and heres Finns brief vid of ping pong… impressive he filmed anything one handed… just a genteel warm up, but such a reassuring sound the plunkety plonk… and i rather enjoyed the finale of his failed lunge and groan!

seedlings

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ah my beautiful ickle teensy tomatina seedlings! doing well so far!… reared on nowt but love… and a page from Ulysses each and every morning, read in my broadest, softest faux brogue,
just so that they know, although we humans are insistent on meaning, that there lurks a beauty in the baffling
this life business is a doddle! just create beneficial circumstances, pour in sunshine and water… and all will flourish (then wither and die, yeah, yeah)
as true for you and me, as for the seedlings… here the right circumstances are household compost from the garden … think old toenail clippings… regurgitated bean burrito from 2012!
oh and then popped a few of last years toms, ooze gunk of seeds smeared over the top of the soil… hey presto!
… and for me?…hmmm … ah since a neanderthal munched down on the primordial proto cabbage leaf (‘where theres muck thers brassicas’… he was clearly a yorkshire hominid)
man has been straining at (and ate) vegetable metaphors… so enuff of that
mostly i like watching things grow whilst coding… beards… and stuff
right enough ruminating, off to buy cream puffs and cherry tart from the supermarket
wish me luck, tis peculiar out there, laid low with dismal snot cold i haven’t left the house since wednesday! x
‘april is the coolest mumpfz’