Although it’s still nearly three weeks until the equinox, the meteorologists say it’s already autumn. Certainly there are plenty of fruits and berries about on trees and bushes.
As I wandered round in the sunshine yesterday, camera in hand, wondering what to take photos of, my eye was caught by the magnolia tree. More specifically, by the seed pods in various stages of development.
Continue reading “gone to seed”
It isn’t just my aged mother who is confused by Windows. I’ve been looking at the other kind and wondering what they are for.
They aren’t usually there to be looked at. But are they there to look out of? Or to look in at?
Presumably it depends on where you are: if you’re outside, you look in, and if you’re inside, you look out.
Continue reading “less than clear”
Given the fairly dreadful weather over the last couple of months, I’ve been trying to track down a half-remembered quotation to the effect that the worst winter ever was one summer in England.
In fact, I’ve found that the actual wording is, “The coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco.” – a quotation often misattributed to Mark Twain – which doesn’t really fit the bill.
Continue reading “seasons in the sun”
I’ve mentioned before the need for more ‘poetry listenings‘ rather than poetry readings, but I went to an open mike event last night and I think it’s a topic that is worth returning to.
Although most of the readers and the rest of the audience had been milling around for half an hour or more, the event was late starting. As there weren’t many of us there, this wasn’t a problem: there would be plenty of time for everyone. But as soon as the girl presenting the event had said it was time to begin and sat down to play at the piano, the chap in front of me started to fuss and fidget.
Continue reading “sound and fury”
The tagline on this blog describes it as “(mostly) first person poetry, prose & opinion” but in reality the main topic seems to be a repeated complaint that I don’t know what to write about. I think the secondary topic is probably another complaint – that I’m too busy to write very much.
Then there are the fairly repetitive floral photographs and the re-posts of old poetry.
Continue reading “creature of habit”
don't confuse the narrator 