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bask in this, the bliss of your perpetual, preposterous blossoming
‘YOU, you are beautiful’ this the whispered rhapsody of the May
of course the mind will quibble, it’s usual, mostly useless, toothless worrying
consider this, from the first split of an amoeba, an unbroken line flowing to, and then, through you onwards! a billenia of success and flourishing
the human line, the babe so helpless, so vulnerable, survival is through being cosseted, cocooned… nurtured
true for our mothers, fathers, endless ancestors, this domino topple down the generations
we are the CRESCENDO, the culmination of love
Incantation… how many angels are dancing on the head of a pin? who cares… but I know for certain that you are one of them.
yo! pirhouette in your beauty
says a man, with a medallion, in a grey polyester 70’s trackie top, branded with the logo of a company i once worked for, on a hill, above Kingston near Lewes

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ah, the body blossoming, one of my more palatable ‘visions’ from an attempted vipassana (i left in a euphoric froth of madness on day 7 or possibly 8 )
a teaching on ephemera, every iota, all material phenomena are perpetually arising and then falling from being
transfixed, a winters twilight afternoon, lost on a bench in the woods and saw, then felt, that it was so
the body, endless, ecstatic Rose pink flowers
bask in this, the bliss of your perpetual, preposterous blossoming


Abi: I was just pondering the rhapsody of May and of course you have worded it so beautifully

thanks love, ever entranced by the miracle of being outside at this time of year, impossible, for me at least, not to try and summon some sense of it in words
tho not saying i always get it right… hope you enjoyed your own poem, and that all goes swimmingly! hug xx


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stitchwort… louche on the verge, sprawled and bedraggled amidst the hedgerow
spotted these a few days back, near an ancient thatched house, down a narrow lane in east devon… away in the distance the Rust Red sandstone sea stacks of Ladram bay, more the aboriginal desert dust of Uluru than the green, sog-fest of the west country
in days gone by, this plant, i would lazily ascribe as daisy!
but, take a snap, then later look it up in a wild flowers spotters guide… a gift from daughter yonks ago…
slowly, slowly, expanding circles of knowledge, when we yoke creativity, and nature, with wisdom… we become unstoppable!
a thought which, ha, occurs to me walking home from this mornings jog, a long long queue outside the drive-in mcdonalds, smell of fried flesh and petrol fumes in the air… its not really going that well?

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stitchwort, such a beautifully prosaic anglo saxon name, no flummery, all stomping about in hob nail boots, a culture so deeply embedded in nature, so intricately connected, that there would be no point in wonder
yet, with my love for pomp and the absurd curlicues of words, guess i would have been inside, blessing of clericism?
indeed the latinate… ‘Stellaria’… a star flower… 5 petals, deeply bifurcated, so, the double pentacle, a ten pointed star!
ooh a nine pointed star would be the enneagram, but am unaware of the symbology for ten
anyway, two posts, broadly for earth day, glut, clearly of wafflesome disposition!


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planting up a few tomato seedlings… earth day, blessing from the empress, abundance to all
walk on the sacred earth beneath the broad expanse of sky…. our birthright
being outside, in nature, with people we love… connection to body, land and each other
toms grown from last years seed slobber, love the closing of these circles
nettle tapenade for lunch, yum… i’m calling it tapenade as, happily, i have no idea what the word means!

Esther: I have these Angel cards too! Don’t have much spare time to draw them these days but you’ve reminded me to do a reading for myself 👼 xx

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Aw I’m sure your so hugely busy all the blooming time! Hope you find some peace amongst the bedlam… plus occasional appreciation of how joyful it is… my nippers are 25 and 21 now… proper bonkers xx

I actually really like these cards… I read tarot for years, but kind of came to a pause with it, as tho, obvs, powerful wasn’t always in the right space to integrate some of the darkness
These are proper fluffy, love the illustrations and lots of buoyancy
Most of the cards make me think of someone I know… this lady/empress does too… tho can’t quite work out which of my friends she is?! Ha! Hug xx


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in the realm of cernunnos, the horned god
a drab day, an inconsequential copse, away on the cusp of the downs.
yet even then, is there anywhere you’d rather be than a british woods in the idyllic throes of spring?
a white carpet of wood anemones bob their heads beneath the breeze… birds flit, a warble of rapture
hawthorn and elder flush fresh with leaf
everywhere the froth of life, thin skein. green
i love this place, partly for the fact so few people bother to come here
all the paths are stopped. toppled trees from the great winters storm
upheaval. upended… vertical becomes horizontal
the roots claw scrabble down in the chalk. amongst the flint … not deep enough to withstand the barge and shove of air
i hunker down, these roots, a fungal earthen smell, gone to ground… a selfie, trying to conjure the trunks as cernunnos horns? not quite
next… bum shuffled along the trunk, over the crisp crackle lichen, till perched 10 ft above the path… legs a dangle. that’s plenty high enough for me!
with the breeze, occasionally the trunk thrums, a wave of vibrations move upwards, and then through my body
dragons of earth, dragons of air
i sit, still, thoughts settle then subside

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emerging from the trees there’s a view of the abrupt white cliffs of seaford head, the spire of St Michael Newhaven peeks above the ridge
away, far down the valley, the silhouette of the Castle and the spire of St Michael Lewes
the archangel Dragon slayer! doubled.
The worm would have plummeted to earth somewhere along this ridge? I look for a long barrow? but none I know of nearer than on the hill above Alfriston
curious to think that, back in the neolithic, before the coming of sheep, all the downs would have been lightly wooded… a liminal space of dread
the path follows the sight line, directly downhill to the church in piddinghoe
and there in a stained glass window, clasped in a golden chalice, i find the baby dragon!

written quickly, coz thats fun too!

oh and i’ve got in the habit of writing respectful, but mildly eccentric words, in church visitors books… give it a go!

i love this site… you can zoom in anywhere and find all the barrows and ancient listed buildings wherever you care… lewes is an utter glut!

snow and blossom!

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snow and blossom!
a day at the permaculture plot in stanmer, i’m only ever a sporadic visitor, but whenever life is a little bit at a lull, a day working outside in nature, well mostly supping tea and nattering, is always a good idea!
tho the pic doesn’t really do it justice there was about an hour of fluffy stuff… a jumbled up, out of kilter british spring…
a bit of snow won’t cause much harm, but freezing overnights more problematic for autumns harvest
aw i have a fleeting moment of wishing to be a zen monk… but they’re much better at rocking a bobble hat, writing poems… or mbe should be a viking? who knows!
snow upon plum blossoms
ephemera mingles with euphoria
wind swirl gyre downwards from the heavens
this eternal moment, poised, topples into poignancy
that sort of stuff!

nettle pesto

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lunchtime nettle pesto.. continuing on from last weeks post
generous handfulls of nettle tips, wild garlic from stanmer park (it’s out already!)
1 lemon, a pinch of pepper, bountiful mixed seeds, olive oil… these foraged from lidl
whisk and pulverise to perfection… slobber over gnocchi… guzzle. yum
have you ever seen a more delicious dick n’dom BOGIES green!? it just has to be good for you!!
takes 5 minutes to prepare and then you can waffle on about it for at least a week
food on social media always a performative act
didn’t follow a recipe, all ‘intuitive’ quantities, guided by the spirit of the nettle… well, too lazy to be bothered to google it
you might blanch the nettles to eradicate any danger of stung tongue?… but mine was fine with mere whisking
the nettle flavour is sort of slightly soggy woolen socks… tastier than that sounds!
don’t, DON’T whatever you do make nettle soup… made that once, just yuk, fed it to the kids (possibly greta too), they’re usually hugely tolerant of my experimenting, but even they didn’t much like that
aw wild garlic pesto reminds me of the epic LEJOG cycle gang! meandering again… ha, tumbleweed on here anyway
yawn… can’t seem to wake up post lunch, fun weekend, up to see mum yesterday, whilst saturday after a sunset beach loiter went along to mobius loop… such a brilliant fun festie band!
a cauldron of cacao, lots of faces, old and new, wild boogie
oh and they played a couple of much more folkie tunes too… really enjoyed teh one below!

Nicki: Richard Basgallop great night … love this song thanks for posting the link ..
Particulary Loved this one that the other group She sang too ..its so beautiful

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Ooh that’s lovely, thanks for posting, beautiful harmonies!

In keeping with the synchronous, warm and soulful, nature of the eve, also enjoyed dancing with them (down the front always the place to be!), then chatting to them after. Groovy good to see ya too! Xx

So looking forward to summer festies! X

Sheila: smart funny guy!

Alex: Ooo DELISH! Whereabouts in stanmer did you find it? X

Wild garlic was up the top and way way way (one more way for luck!) back.. they’ll be plenty more of it about in a few weeks!

Was a treat to bump into you and bf… sunset just after was lush… we should totes hang kat more often xx

Alex: Richard Basgallop yes lovely to introduce you guys and see you 🌅

Hang kat? Autokorrect has stopped even trying to make sense. Sigh xx


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Cheers! Nettle Juice with a dash of Cleavers and a soupcon of Dandelion
belated equinox blessings to one and all… the nettle sacred to Aries, and this the fiery start to the astrological year… may it be a good un
first harvest, all from the back garden… before a bit of a spring tidy up… natch
spring tonic, the early arriving nettle would have been greatly appreciated in times of yore
Lent is always a time of fasting… one of the obvious reasons being that theres nowt much left to eat by now! … tho not quite the ‘hungry gap’
… my annual appreciation of the humble nettle post… this year i’m plucking them, just the tip, the top few leaves, with my bare fingers
the peril adds to the fun! plus the stimulant effect of being mildly stung, fizz fingers is supposed to be beneficial… hope so!

Esther: I plan on making homous with my foraged nettles, will take my marigolds for picking though 🧤 I’m not so brave as you!

Ooh that sounds yum… You’ve inspired me to give it a go x

Ha! Marigolds may well be wise, my phone’s fingerprint recognition now doesn’t work with my still tingling digit! X

charlotte: Thats a “very green” drink ! xx

hulk juice! xx … oh did ya hear me and mum bumped into vicky in tescos leatherhead. small world xx

julie: Recipe? Or is that just juiced nettles? 😁

Recipie?! whats that! it’s a handful of nettles, some cleavers (goose grass, or, you’ll be glad to hear it’s colloquial name is, ‘sticky willy’) and some dandelion leavesall are different shades of green and flavours… nettles are, to my wayward palate, quite ‘nutty’, the cleavers taste like grass abnd dandelions bitter and astringent…if how it tastes is important? just nettles are grand x

leaf kerfuffel

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leaf kerfuffle! brown, dowdy but exultant… myriad hued… the autumnal tumble, a last leaf hurrah
scampering about the beech wood, like an exuberant puppy… i caught so so many leaves!… each a wish… one for you
hmmm.. catching leaves should be a ceremonial process… a druidic serenade?
station yourself, slightly downwind, of the oldest most majestic beech spirit within the woods
begin the invocation with a bout of strenous whistling… i favour ‘i am the lord of the dance said he’… place one finger, folk singer style in ear, a la Euan McColl… other hand should nestle, nonchalant, in pocket
‘O mighty Beech, begin the gyre, release your leaves of burnished copper!’… the more operatic the better (always!?)
a wind, weary sweeps through the canopy… the leaves begin their fall
some proceed with orderly haste, others pirrhouette, loop da loop, a melodramatic swan song
focus on one, far aloft, leaf summoner, leaf stalker… feel the quiver as it acknowledges the beckon of gravity
down, down it plummets… pounce! a lunge forward, a frenzy of grasp and clutch, the leaf tickles the fingers, then pancake follops over and … ‘BUNDLE’ chucks itself onto the dingy pile of leaf husks on the ground below
but then, unheralded, another leaf, slaps against my forehead… bill stickering into place… i gently peel it off, cheerfully whooping ‘caught one’
aw people, them PEOPLE, make such a fuss about intention! but half the knack is just to acknowledge, have gratitude for, good fortune when we accidentally blunder stumble over it?
oops i’ve gone all Mills and Boon meets the Beano!
anyway, not the easiest of seasons, stodge despondency and despair… thought i’d written something wise in my morning pages… but it remains an indecipherable scrawl!
these eclipse hours… schumann resonance? hathor frequency?
stand beneath the trees… respond with stillness… feel the frequency… strident but calm… the one ringing clarion note that underpins being. bliss


lambent evening light… seaford head, the distant cliff, but a lazy peach smudge, daub thumbed across the horizon
the sea, a softness, ease in and out of being
through the stillness, from the dizzy far below, sound rises like wood smoke
trudge crunch as a man makes his way home across the pebble shingle
splatter scamper of the mackerel, tails fork tongue flicker across the water…. these sea speakings
Blackberries and Hawthorn Hips, knotted Red and Black… fluffed, the firework fiesta of Old Mans beard
hollow sonorous knell of a wood pigeon
look! my head! lumpen huge as some easter island moai
Hoa Hakananai’a… stolen away to languish, across the sea, snug smuggled within the British Museum
home now… lacking much (anything!) to say… greatly liking words, enjoying the fruitful unimportance of it all…i consult the motto on my Rose Geranium Yogi tea bag:
‘let us be kind and compassionate to remove the sadness of the world’

wasp spider

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Wolf Spider with Rose Bay Willow Herb, Thistledown and ermm i want to say Tansy, but its probably just some type of cheerfully deluded Ragwort
bleaggh i mean Wasp Spider… have Wolves on the brain at the mo!
i thought wow, that must be a wasp spider, without even knowing such a thing existed, google agrees… such marvelous gold hoops, even along its legs
beautiful the subtle interactions of nature… the web all soft eiderdown with the wind blown thistle fluff… lost its sticky!… no self respecting fly is going to fall for that!…
they’ve got myriad amazement fractal eyes… tho possibly a slightly squiffy one might think of it as a suitable place for a lie down?
kind of feel for the spider, all that miraculous effort, ruined!
it’s a bit like when you hang the washing out… and immediately boot a muddy football splodge against it… futile fussball chore!
beautiful this morning up Castle Hill… i managed to cycle and then hop up the last bit, foot on the mend, but not not skippable about on yet x

Al: I thought at first this was a poem by you.. Great pictures

ha, sorry to disappoint!tho all words yearn to poetry, just a matter of jumbling them up in a beautiful ordersomething like ‘myriad amazement fractal eyes’ is clearly a thespian type, fallen on hard times, embarrassed to voice over a dog food commercial purely for the dosh x