September 9th

bindweed chokes the bay

smothers the fig, rose and plum

trees of my childhood

August 14th

poppy seeds rattle

in the contented old face

of the blind scarecrow

It had a face, not an engineered face. The poppy seed head just had a face! Most of the poppies in the garden are like this now, dry, full of seeds, rattling away when you brush past them. However there is one big fat one about to bloom! A late starter clearly.

August 6th

blackbird tugs and pulls

at rowan berry bunches

sun ripened, rain fed

D took this photo in our cottage garden, we’ve got two rowans providing shade from the evening sun. It’s a lovely sheltered spot our decking at the end of the garden as they provide a bit of a wind break too.

August 1st

 

the claw foot flexes

scoring stone as the flames lick

on Mithras’ altar

This photo is from the Altar of Mithras at the recently restored Wrest Park where we went today. We joined English Heritage, so we can go in free for a year. Seeing as it’s round the corner we’ll be regulars. It’s only around three miles from our house. An enormous country house with beautiful gardens, dotted with outbuildings, classically influenced sculpture and smile inducing follies. You can get lost in the grounds, but the Altar is marked on the map and it seemed alluring, so we found it, deep in the woodlands, an imposing stone block. I should have got a pic of the whole thing, it had a brazier on top (rather, I assume it did but it was around 10 feet up so couldn’t see) with Greek and Persian inscriptions. But the four claw foot stands appealed to me the most.

Who was Mithras? He was worshipped around the time Christianity was picking up. There seem to be many parallels and similarities between Mithras and Jesus, they were contemporary developing religions. Also, Mithraism was a secretive religion, which would, I believe, appeal to the gentry already soaked with classical teaching. Mystery stokes interest. I can imagine this altar was built in the woods as a kind of naughty folly, fires probably burned on it and I can imagine tongue in cheek summer parties lasting well into the night with everyone in Roman fancy dress. “Roman Priests” would conduct rites and the wine would flow. Do I have any evidence for this? Of course not, but if I built a great big altar in honour of a mysterious deity, I would certainly use it for fun historical reconstructions!

July 27th

sacks of pollen gold

weigh down the bumble worker

the precious labours

Poor bumble bees haven’t got long to live now. The seasons nearly up. They are amazing animals, their ability to fly in the first place due to the incredible muscle strength of their wings. And the big pollen baskets they carry on their legs, which they eat in their nests. They seem somehow impossible. It’s all about sharing for them, makes me wonder what this planet would be like if a hive animal became the sentient species. All your base are belong to us!

Love Bees. And touch wood, I’ve never been stung by one.

July 22nd

vine tendrils ascend

conquer evergreen thicket

delicate fingers

July 5th

Sleep sound reassured

ubiquitous wood pigeon

velvet pillow song

 

There’s something comforting about the cooing of wood pigeons. Warm days in the summer garden.

(pic from RSPB website)

July 2nd

the rambling rector

heavy scent heady flowers

white bundles afloat

 

the old rambling rose in the garden is just bursting with smell and white flowers at the moment. It seems to defy gravity, the weight of its flowers should be sagging it down, but it isn’t, it’s joyously exposing itself to the sky, climbing up to meet it. I think the mix of showers and sun (and we’ve had both today) is doing the world of good for the plants. I’ve mentioned it before but the garden has never been this colourful.

June 24th

 

innocent bullfinch

red rusty gate sighs close by

calls his mate and flies

A bullfinch landed right near me in the garden today. It’s quite rare to see one up close. It was oblivious to me as I was sitting so still, so it sat on a low branch in one of the rowan trees and cooed it’s sad rusty gate song very quietly. I think it saw the cat after a few seconds when her ears pricked up in curiosity. The bullfinch and his mate, which was perched in the willow, then flew together into the eucalyptus, where he sang for a bit more, then they both flew off. Lovely colourful birds.

pic from rspb website

June 20th

mock orange cradle

rock me to sleep, tuck me in

curled up in your arms

As I said yesterday, there is a simple solace, a healing in the garden. The mock orange is blooming, at the same time as our rambling rose. The garden is a fragrant paradise at the moment. Whilst I’m sad, I feel fortunate too.

June 19th

Edgar Allan Poe

skull and pirate treasure trail

gold-bug cipher bite

We had the washing carousel out, which made a kind of tent like secluded wind break, but still allowed the sun to filter through. It was kind of like how I imagined a medina in Marrakesh would be like, with a nice patch to sit on outdoors and drink mint tea / smoke shisha, behind thin curtains, except with our bed linen hanging out to dry instead of un-dyed natural cotton billowing.

It was nice, hadn’t had much time to think of late, the day was warm as well. So I just sat down, then lay down and looked at the sky. Listened to the birds. A blackbird and a song thrush had a competition. One was in the oak, the other in the Eucalyptus tree, but it might have been in the Willow, it was hard to tell.

I felt safe being surrounded by our flowers. One should not underestimate the therapeutic and reviving qualities of a loved garden.

D then noticed something, a small golden beetle near the herbs. It looked amazing, neither of us had seen anything like it. It reminded me of Edgar Allan Poe’s (conveniently his name is 5 syllables) short story, The Gold-Bug, from Tales of Mystery and Imagination.

Except with a bit of research, we confirmed they’d be no buried treasure to dig up. The offending critter was a Rosemary Beetle, yes, they love Rosemary and their larva can destroy it, they are a non native pest. We have tons of Rosemary growing. Neither of us like to kill any animal, no matter how small, so we’re going to try to reason with him!

(all photos by me)

other stuff happening. A bee on the knapweed.

A bee in the foxgloves (an action shot – woooo)

June 16th

Cocksure foxglove spears

fleshy poppies abundant

augmented by rain

I ventured, bleary eyed, into the garden today. It’s absolutely teeming with colour. It’s wild and beautiful. The rain has fed these giant growth spurts, the poppies are weighty, the width of saucers. The flowers are gorgeous. And the smell of the rambling roses drifts in the air.

It helped to warm up my heart a little and inspired me to write a happy longer poem, which you can read on my other blog here.

May 23rd

Shaded by rowan

to rest on a bed of leaves

listening to doves

Our cat Katie has been labouring with a back injury of late, she hasn’t got the confidence in springing at the moment, so on vet’s instruction we’re monitoring her, to see if she’s showing any improvement.

It may be that’s she’s just getting old of course, poor thing. She likes it when we’re outside, she feels safe around us, knowing we’ll look after her and the likelihood of her having to sprint away from danger is minimal.

Well, today, what with it being beautifully hot, even into the evening, I fully expected her to lie in his usual spot, a little curled cat shaped indentation in the leaf litter, wedged between the trunk of the rowan tree and the edge of the decking. She didn’t oblige me as she wanted to stay up on the table of course.

I love that cat’s are so fickle. So this Haiku is for Katie, we love her very much!

April 2nd

Lustful combatants

fence post duellists belly barge

posture and display

 

There were two male wood pigeons on the fence between the back gardens, battling for love. A bemused female watched them fight, looking mightily unimpressed by their efforts, wondering if there was another wood pigeon she could choose as her mate.

Wood pigeons are wobbly inelegant fat gits. Their fight was noisy, but fairly ineffective. Just lots of thudding and flapping around. Not sure who won. The fattest one I would guess.

(pic from RSPB website)

February 10th

 

Cold paddock pickings,

Silly birds come get some treats,

Nuts and seeds to eat.

 

Why aren’t they coming to my window bird feeder?

January 24th

Buried by his shame,

Mule flower, pressed and preserved,

Defying God’s law.

 

Watched Botany: A Blooming History on BBC4. Captivating and fascinating, about the pioneers in plant science. What drew me in was the gardener who performed the first deliberate cross pollination/hybridisation between two species, Thomas Fairchild.

He chose a carnation and a sweet william. And it worked. But the new species was sterile, much like a mule.

As a religious man, he kept his discovery secret for many years, fearing he was dabbling in the creation work of God. But he needn’t have worried, his work was considered scientifically groundbreaking.