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Rainy day, so an opportunity to start learning some bell-ringing methods. If otherwise flummoxed, turn it into a nonsense poem... Plain Hunt Doubles Run to me, for time ticks 123456 To stun your beehive chicks 214356 You draw fun-size twee pics 241536 Score due, I’ve done free kicks 425136 Shore drive: blue sea spun slicks 452316 Strive more, be true, gun clicks 543216 Shrive, be pure, shun blue flicks 534126 We thrive on floor glue fix 351426 See swan dive through your sticks 315246 Son, me too, I've more tricks 132546 Run to me, for time ticks... 123456 
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 Blackbirds
We have watched them work through the final frosts Colouring the branches with their shining calls, Bright budburst notes wrapped tight and green as moss. We never saw their eggs, stayed far away Through the mother’s brooding. With one still eye She watched us working, till the fourteenth day. And as we mowed, they came with full-stuffed bills, To perch, heads cocked, above the squirming nest. Mouths reached out and wide like daffodils. Now the nest is empty. The work is done. And as we mow the lawn again, they sit In branches, singing green songs in the sun.  This garden sings out to the world in green,
Tremolo leaves punctuating the air. New movements swell from the soil to declare: “We are here, where we always have been.” Each colour of sound that these flowers are giving - The F sharps of yellow and B flats of blue - They sing without pausing for breath, all on cue, Almost exhausted from the joy of living.  Inspired by my first ever new pound coin...
Gardeners’ Question Time “My leeks, my shamrock, my thistles and roses Are no longer thriving,” our listener discloses. “What can I do to ensure they’ll grow freely? The answer should be inexpensive, ideally.” “May I ask firstly what else you have growing? And which way is the prevailing wind blowing?” “I’ve walls on all sides, so no hint of a breeze And to keep it all tidy, I’ve cut down the trees. I’ve dug up all species that aren’t from these shores: Tomatoes, potatoes and black hellebores I just want my British plants richer and fuller So I’ve driven out all of the non-native colour.” “Well, there is your problem, I’m sorry to say. You’re turning your soil into hard, sterile clay. With only four species within your four walls You’ll soon find your fragile fertility falls. The answer is simple: to get a rich loam You just have to make it a welcoming home.” |
A Diary blogA photo, a piece of writing, a video... Anything creative done on a Thursday afternoon. 
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