Dancing with a hoe: I can't help myself... The urge to share a little of the pleasure is too great.

Wednesday, 29 July 2020

I can't help myself... The urge to share a little of the pleasure is too great.

White climbing beans filling up fast...

A new flower opens, taller than the first...

I'm loving the form...

Second pumpkin more on the way...

My raised beds elevate the exsisting earth to a former state of grace... why plant a row of boxes with imported soil . Leaves your garden looking like a graveyard, or with bought in bins reminiscent of garbage cans. Here the ground rises to meet us. Gradually developing a beautiful personality of it's own. We encourage it... It works better in a not for commercial profit context, Long term mutual benefit assured, looks prettier too...

Iz being has beans...

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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."