A "Mudskool " Pyramid of Power,

Looking into it with our eyes closed.

Psychoretinal paralysis. Photonsaturation. The minds eye retreats to soothing shadows. Crystalline fragments of consumed memory. Broken Continuity. The selective frequency channeling mass sacrifice driven hungry gnawing on the photoelectric bone. Fattening the indulgence of our dreams. The slaughter of our innocents. To hail the newborn king. Gladly thrusting tender hearts against a newly sharpened future. Cutting edge camouflage of parental neglect. Three dimensional appetites in a two dimensional world. Prefamine feeding frenzy. In fading memory on St.Stevens day, we search for those the madness overlooked. Critical faculties hang from screaming nerves. Hypothermic nostalgia for more caring times. Plastic wrapped, old husks pack small in the formless void of ritualised love. The skips are overflowing with discarded hopes and childhoods longing. Lotto till Lent, Blotto till spent. Whilst priests impressed by suffering, proclaim the New Republic in the spring.

Another small field of interest.

A tangle of leaners. fallers and self sown saplings.Not quite a pretty sight, better than no trees ! Autumn will see us thinning out and grubbing up the weedy poles. Sweet chestnut coppice,no major standards,just a couple of oaks on the woods edge.The chestnut has been allowed to get too tall by the neglect of the undergrowth. We will plant and sow hazels, siver birch oak and ash.cultivate some of the pollarded chestnut, a good utility wood, Fence posts can last a twenty year and still make good fire logs. There's a clump of holly that will have to be drastically reduced.I'll bring it back to being a berry hedge. Two fallen scots pine can be salvaged for construction and a few good straight chestnut poles, for the round house.A lot of firewood, our little stove will be very happy.The ditches need regrading, the soil can go towards the building of a tumulus in the centre of the copse.
Charcoal kiln and a bodgers hut could be well placed here
I dug up a few new potatoes today,beautiful clean,no bigger than a large goose egg . We have about a bucket of peas to shell for the freezer.Many more to come.I lifted the shallots, not a great year regionally, a good store never the less. A litte undersize but firm.The onions more than make up for the shortfall. They're as big as my fist and almost ready for turning over. Hmmm, it's a nice cup of tea is that. I'll do some watering once I've sunk it.The first of the outdoor tomatoes, large, firm and alive with flavour.
If anyone is wondering why I should be rambling on about,enjoyable but quite mundane matters, iz to create context iz all.
"Oh Oh!Iz is leading to something".I wont pile it on too thick just now.Get some fresh air. I have finished shelling the peas. I couldnt resist turning down the onions,they need to dry before they get made into bunches. A nice subject for a little video iz that,I'll see what I can do.Don't forget to weed and water your window box.
You don't even have a window box.
I'll put you on my list of potential targets.I bet you don't even have a natural suntan and it's the middle of summer. Go on get out, or you'll be grumpy all winter.
I'm going out to photograph the onions now, they'll be famous.

Doing the do...

Talking the talk, about saving the Earth,Feeding the poor of the world and ethical trade, by the coffee table pundits and philosophers of the chattering New Enlightenment, one wonders who will do the work.Countries that import most of the food they consume are hardly likely to fool any one by the statements of well meant intentions,thrown to the crowd to appease growing distrust.The coffers of the executives grow fat as hope fades in the grass roots collateral base of the worker population.If the poorest and most disadvantaged are to progress to an equitable level of subsistence, support must be given to those dedicated to aiding self reliance and empowered non fiscal prosperity. There is no money to be honourably made from poverty.

The journeyman's pen...

With tales that may not yet be told until the noble cause is won,whilst juggernauts leave deserts in their wake. The pen describes a word unsoiled by mortal tongue. The hoe, now guides us on the path that we must take.
A tick, a sign confirming all correct.It steers a course away from certain doom,the price of Man's neglect. A key, a note. transcending symphony, aspires to sainted harmony and opens gates to our true destiny.

When the moon was young and Iz woz just a lad, trees woz bigger then an we woz very small.

Elfin safety,

WARNING
Don't see things that aren't there,
It's bad for the imagination.





Working together in the same direction.