Dancing with a hoe: They don't make buckets big enough to carry all the good news , here's some spillings you might enjoy...

Friday, 12 July 2019

They don't make buckets big enough to carry all the good news , here's some spillings you might enjoy...

We are about 12 kilos of Groseilles (Whitecurrants), to the good so far. There about 5 plus kilos more to be harvested. Best season yet. Redcurrants ,next then gooseberries.
The sky is ashen grey, no wonder with all the volcanic activity around the planet. I am grateful for the cool.
More good news, Brother Eddie is at long last about to pay us a visit. August will be upon us soon. I am looking forward to it, there's progress in the making.
Morning promenade produced some pretty pictures...I'll give you a few slices of that next.

I have just picked these.

Tree frog (rainett) makes a quick visit.

Sunflowers.

That's all for now, See ya! I. Wazir

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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."