Dancing with a hoe: The season of luscious progress...

Friday 19 May 2017

The season of luscious progress...

So much happening all at once, impossible to cram the data into a mere one eyed image. Waxing lyrical about the wonder of the season doesn't hit the spot for me. I was overwhelmed observing the massive growth after two days of intermittent rain. I didn't take a photo.
We gave the peony some support yesterday,the ants are doing a grand job opening the fliower buds. It looks like the plant has found a perfect spot to live in. The flowers remind me of happy days in Oxford when my children were small. A while and a bit ago now, chances are neither of them would remember.

Peony deserves a closer look...

"It duz"

Coco beans and runnerbeans sown on ridges and mulched with chopped straw.

Summer is coming, Anne-Sophie busy preparing for the heat.

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About Izmusic

"My melodies are songs without words, none vocal narrative. Folk have rushed by for years and barely glimpsed the tune. A few hang around and listen for a while, but the street has many distractions. My back is no longer against the wall,this is the first chance I've had in eleven years to unravel my tunes, at present encrypted into a whole tangle of technique excercises. You've missed some wondrous epic sessions sad that most often I was the only person,mortal at least, to hear them.
Eight hours a day playing in the icy chill of city streets through several winters alters the character of your technique to some how transcend the harsh discomforts and "make some good of the day".
MUSIC IZ A MIGHTY MAGIC! The first cathartic offerings were created hastily in a frantic effort to master the production.It's all past time , I make music for the moment the occassion, a kind of relativity fix. A divine conspiracy, a benign heresy. The line of least probability may offer opportunity of greater possibility.
Enjoy my primitive efforts. Plain song busking,"strictly kitchen ". The music of the heart bridges the ambiguity of fumbling words,overcomes cultural barriers. Music like God is personal none vocal meaning in the voice of the unspeakable word. The "You know what I mean nostalgia " space ,whether we've done the daring deed or not, where the mind might put on clean socks and start afresh. Familiar phrasing from our collective vocal tradition triggers epic vision, emotional empathy, mathematical poetry, sympathetic reveries create lifelines to the greater mind. In all styles, in all languages the flute and drum resist the restrictive dogmatic control of state or temple."