Eternally wrong....about the children and the Wordpress Weekly Photo Challenge

That’s the wrong order. That’s not how things should be.Walk into any church in any village and you will probably see a child’s names on a tombstone.It’s one of the saddest things don’t you think? It must be.Walking thru St Denys Church in my little village, where there are records of people since the church was built in the 13C, there are, mercifully, few children’s names.But the ones who are here are under an angel’s soft protection.Enveloped in warm Cotswold stone.In the gentlest light.Remembered.Wrong, thought about and photographed in St Denys Church, Northmoor for the Wordpress Weekly Photo Challenge

Now these are some proper late summer herbaceous borders!

My friend Elaine and I made a date for lunch today at Aston Pottery in the village of Aston. Last year the owners were busy planting some perennial borders and this year the borders are absolutely spectacular. We are both avid plants women; we were in heaven.Walking down the path was just breathtaking. I know...they’re only flowers...but you should have seen the bees and bumblebees and butterflies on the bee balm and Echinacea.The phlox! What can I say about the phlox? It’s magical here. Big bronze stems and bright fuchsia blooms.Agapanthus, crane’s bill geranium, huge stargazer lilies, michaelmas daisies and astras, coreopsis and crocosmia.Absolutely no room to move within the borders. This is fantastic because they hold each other up and choke out the weeds. What a brilliant treat to see.On our way out we waved to owner Stephen Baughan. He was busy planting a huge border on a ten foot bank. Way to go Stephen, the gardens look lovely.

Ephemeral sculpture just for me? Why yes...of course!

A nest came down this spring. I think it was a pigeon’s nest, and it could have been the dove’s, but it lay on the ground under the tree...disintegrating. In the meantime the pigeons/doves moved on to bigger and better trees with fresher and stronger branches.I’ve been walking around the old nest, a sad little pile of twigs, and I’ve been thinking about reconstructing it, rebuilding it.Today I did just that, with some copper wire, a flint pebble and those forgotten twigs.

Rough nights...a Sunday Whirl

Another brilliant group of words in this week's Sunday Whirl.How can a girl resist? Thank you Brenda!Port anchor wake pitch marrow link stern rail sink navigate deck storeThe pitch of the skyA fish-scale gray,Gull’s wings gray,Swimming or flyinganchors the shipHolds it in placeRoofing it over from port to sternRail in the manSeal him off from colour and lifeA lamp in each hand.Navigate from one end of the chain to the stars.The blue window of morning, a link between the varnished deck and the stairs that go down lower than the mast.Because there is a sea between the land and the man and the unfolded night that stops the noise.There is the sun’s wing that divides the wind and the wake.The two leaves of the window open on the creaking horizonSink it downA slipshod night to store the memoriesEscape and trample on the marrow of the manThe stars fall on one sideStarted this poem 17 times but it kept wanting to be nautical so I gave in. :) It's all good. Also good really good great are my friend's Walt, Jules, Sara, and Anjum.

The ideal gardener's shed

Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy! I’m in love!Got to get me a gardening shed like this one.Actually, this is several small sheds in a horse barn at the pleasure gardens on the Blenheim Palace estate, but we can imagine, can’t we. Wouldn’t it be just dreamy to spend your gardening time here? Using these beautiful things?Just imagine next spring and you...Choose your seeds from the drawers on this floor to ceiling seed cabinet.Walk with your precious packets thru your cold fruit store; still full of yummy autumn fruit.Pot the seeds up on your potting bench.Cart them out to the garden on your beautiful wooden wheel barrow.Come back in and wash up.Have a cup of tea...and take an afternoon nap. (Under a soft feather quilt – which is just airing out on the wash line of course.)Can you just imagine?I can't resist...putting more photos on Facebook. Come be my friend and have a look.

Grow on, willow, grow on

Weeping willow in the meadow.They say it takes 300 years for an oak to grow, 300 for it to live and 300 for it to die. 900 years! Live on Mighty Oak.My willow is only about 100 years old. But it’s over 50 feet tall and has a majestic tent-like spread. Like the oak, it is the stuff of fairies and trolls and deer and foxes, Mr Toad and Ratty.I feel so content under this tree.I feel so content under trees.The blood in my veins is resin. The very roots and timber and branches of my heart feel the willow. It’s amazing.Grow on willow, grow on.Photographed and written for the weeping willow but also for the Wordpress Weekly Photo Challenge.

It’s been an Edison kind of day

How many ways are there to break a light bulb?Oh plenty!!!It seems to me that no one has ever taken a low pressure sodium bulb apart because I couldn’t find any directions about it.But, how hard can it be?I tried to follow the on-line directions for dismembering a regular light bulb but the sodium bulb didn’t play along the same rules.I got the bottom off, broke the glass seal and knocked the glass out, snapped the inside glass filament, there was a whoosh of air...took an hour to get this far...so far so good...then tried to wedge the glass filament out and...SNAP...the outer glass broke in three.DamnReally hard.Stopped after a few hours and lots of broken glass...for now...but it’s on bulbs...you will be lovely glass poetry vessels!So for the rest of the afternoon I...Took care of my saved rose,Made brown sugar pears with ginger snaps,And watched my geraniums grow.

Random...on a strange day

I should have known this morning it was going to be one of those days.Some Canada geese fly over West Cottage each morning on their way to the Thames. This morning there were three flocks absolutely determined to wake me up by 5:30. It was the third flock what done it. A lovely acapella of 20 or more honks and then, a lone, tone-deaf goose bringing up the rear some distance behind the rest, honking/screeching pitifully. Do you ever have those mornings where you feel yourself slipping back into zombie-land and then some noise rolls the blinds up on your brain in that thunderous way where the blinds keeps on rolling after they’ve reached the top? Yeah, that was what happened.Today was going to be the day to visit the scrap yard to see if I could find some interesting bits for sculpture. I was imagining Steampunk fish made with bits of found machinery...as you do...and I found the most wonderful poetry-under-glass light bulbs, some dragonfly bodies (AKA pipe holders), some old tags and a kind of metal cylinder which will most likely end up holding a poem. (Oh, I know, but it’s working in my head. I’ll show you very soon) Anyway, the sky darkened and within 2 minutes it started bucketing it down. Big, big fat rain. Good old English weather. Everything was beyond drenched in 30 seconds and I had to drive off.So most of you probably know that gas (petrol) is really expensive in England. My mini is so great to drive but, across Oxfordshire, it’s best to drive the Astra. The Astra uses LPG, (Liquid Petroleum Gas), which is much more sensible, but there are only a few stations that dispense it. Eventually I had to go gas up.Let me describe the process.First take off the gas cap and put it on the driver’s seat. (Safety precaution. There have been way too many gas caps left behind on top of the pump.) Then take the nozzle out from its holder, align the bayonet fittings, twist the nozzle 45% clockwise and pull the handle till an airtight lock happens. Then lean against the big red button on the pump with your shoulder to dispense the LPG. Make sure your arms are crossed and you’re wearing your shades because if you got this far thru the ordeal you’re dead cool.When the maximum amount of LGP has been delivered the pump will stop and now you need to summon all your strength. Look away, take a deep breath...hold it... and bravely push the handle to break the air lock. Instantly, a huge puff of stinky LPG will escape at high pressure freezing your hand and making a scary sound like...like...like that huge serpent on Harry Potter turned into a cobra spitting at full venom. Collect yourself and go pay for the LPG.Sit on the gas cap. Swear.There’s nothing for a day like this. Got fish and chips. I’m a sensible girl after all.

How to say welcome.

With a garland of hanging vases and wildflowers on the front door!How hard can it be?Found some old bottles... here two are from Bovril and one is an old ink bottle, all found on a walk in the beech woods.Got a length of copper wire and strung them together.Filled with bright yellow wildflowers, they lasted for several days.Hung them on the front door.This would look wonderful with old jam jars, baby food jars...any kind of small glass jars. Don't you think?

Purple...and other topics of critical importance

I don’t know whose bright idea it was to stage the opening ceremonies from 9pm to midnight but there you go. I was really excited to watch and so went for a walk in the fields at 8pm to make the time go by faster.The air was warm, the sky was just turning pinky-gold, the crows were flying back to the pines to roost and a deer in the hawk field didn’t know I walked out into the field for a very long time. I was thinking of the Wordpress photo challenge “Purple” and suddenly...there it all was: tons of purple wildflowers all around me.What’s a girl to do? I gathered a great, big handful and took them home.I put them in this soft yellow vase and added a stem of golden loosestrife to set the purple off.In the morning sunshine it all looked wonderful.Oh, and if you’re wondering, the only way to get the thistle, while impromptu purple wildflower gathering, is with two sharp-ish bits of flint. (That stuff is prickly...OMG)