Back To The Garden…

 

 

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Hardening-off the tender shoots © janpaulkelly
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Here! Here! Hartley, Spied through wind-break netting…©janpaulkelly

 

Perspectives shift while pulling weeds.
Pulsing “flashes”, cosmic “sizzles”
Snared in threads of Hubble’s bubbles
Dissipate in late March drizzles…JK

Come May, all of February and March’s effort on the allotment begins to pay dividend, and with the gradual greening-up of drab grey winter beds the mind often loses the run of itself and in so doing often gets ahead of itself, and spontaneously imagines harvest’s bounty.
However, the allotment’s best crop can be in the enjoyment of effort expended in cultivating a simple gardening plan and many a gardener has found that the best harvest is often in reaping the memory of those months-on-end they may have spent lost in the dirt.

The allotment garden is a series of carefully cultivated disasters set midst a few successful lettuces, the odd courgette and, if the weather holds and hares are kept in check, perhaps some tomatoes. But what a joy; to hide yourself in clear and plain sight, whiling away the hours, and fortunate indeed to realize you quite contentedly lost yourself between the herb border and May’s bright flowers, and the whole universe could have cared less!
So perhaps a garden’s greatest gift lies not in its spring or summer show, but in the dirt beneath the gardeners fingernails and in how gardening helps the gardener grow.

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“We are stardust
We are golden
And we’ve got to get ourselves
Back to the garden”
                                                       Joni Mitchell

 

Equinox

Equinox…

Courgettes swell to squamos ooze;
Spent vines cling to the outer edge of the cosmos
Bed, desperate to maintain a grip on summer.

Late September, and summer’s doings come undone.
Drifts of leaves quicken the wood
And nights tighten grip on each new rising sun.

For a few days everything hangs in the balance:
A golden rosette decrees equal measure
To emptied-out beds and a pumpkin’s bright face

While tangible;  the dark end of bright things arrives
With the first grass frost, heightening track and tang of visiting fox:
And unseen, the hound of winter on its scent.

J.K. 22nd September 2016 ©
Paper Rose
A 1st Prize for the second year in a row… With a big big nod to my partner in grime Janette @janpaulkelly