Keen





I am keen. On Life.
Every minute every excruciating minutiae
Detail of it.
This afternoon we drove towards home: from Kent to Cornwall
Hot behind car glass because the air con is broken
Open windows sporadically: beautiful relief.
Over Blackhill Downs a cloud had dropped, split like a fallen craft-
Into the mist we drove it was neither
Recognisably, day, night?
The sun was barely shining, a plain disc
Until hilltops: there it glared
And in the valleys, dense, debris vapour
And the evening came. We drove as the sun dipped to the earths’s edge
Seemed to set it on fire: cloud or smoke forming in the sky
The sky:
Rubescent, turquoise, molten gold
Expanse beyond detail
Gestaltist, joyous:
Keen, the experience of everything.


Comments

Jo said…
Kent, where I used to live. to Cornwall, where I honeymooned.
14 April 2015 at 00:13
Dixie@dcrelief said…
Excellent "K" post; loved your prose!
14 April 2015 at 03:01
Lisa Southard said…
Thank you lovely ladies- I'm having no trouble writing these, am very behind on visiting other blogs though- apologies to all!
15 April 2015 at 13:36
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Contact Pants Conundrum

Image
There is weather today, I do note it: take a few moments to reckon the size of a cloud (big) and the frequency of rain (sporadic.) Centre of my interest though is a stack of magazines. Not the fashion kind. This is martial arts research. I'm not even sure what it is I'm looking for, but intuition calls loud. A range of old adverts skew some amusement. Contact pants, for example. Pants are not trousers where I come from. They are underwear. Professional contact pants: improved smirk value. But why would a person be likely to purchase a grappling hook and a lock pick set? For specialists and hobbyists only, the blurb assures. Guidance on the pheromone spray that attracts women against their better judgement? I doubt it works any more proficiently than the mysterious potion that defines your muscles while you sleep. But, then: I wonder is some sprayed on this paper? What was my intuition thinking, making this ghastly shout… Tea break time. There's a lot of words...
Read more

September's End

Image
September is all but done. Our fingers are purple from plucking berries, scored by thorns, sore and satisfied. How lucky we are, and how grateful! Through the cold spring, and the soggy summer, we have worked to make this place more and more beautiful. We are charming sustenance from the soil with our toiling; using the present to craft a kinder path- a tree-lined, fruit-bearing way.  And so here we are, in autumn, a time of harvest, glut, and storage. A time to plant trees, a time of festival. Our lives are seasonal, tidal, temperate, held in repetitions that are never the same; variations of repeating patterns, a common uniqueness. How lucky we are, and how grateful! Pollinator friendly saplings added to  the firepit hedge, lower field.
Read more

Spring Is Ticking

Image
It has been a while since I wrote a blog post - I have been writing books, and keeping a diary, the days and the work aren’t lost, just ticking quietly in a corner. [There’s a little dust in that corner but the shelf is made of strong oak planks, and the light is enchanting. A plant grows in a pot, it spouts leaves. A half candle stands in a china holder.] At Paddock Garden (properly titled Paddock Garden Orchards, I am a lazy typer) a tree corral has been constructed. It contains persimmons which may not have survived the recent cold blasts and heavy rain, along with some happy pepper trees, bladdernuts, and plum yews. We plan to underplant and interplant extensively in this concentrated area. Around the grounds also we have begun some windbreak hedges, mostly of elaeagnus and hazel. We have a line of sapling native oaks edging the spinney. The first of our camping bay areas is growing emerald grass that was seeded last autumn; the second has recently been seeded; the last three need ...
Read more