Skip to main content

Pea Pot Plans





Air temperature rose and fell. People are reading this like runes. What joy, what doom awaits? I am not speculating, only trying to work out when best to catch up on late planting. 


The polytunnel is a steamy breathing earthy space. Seed trays are incubating. 

Peek repeatedly under repurposed plastic and crockery hoping for that poke of green. 

There’s one self seeded tomato - how smug it stands in the scatter of egg shells, though the nasturtiums tumble around a hundred times bigger. 

Lime shoots pee-oww from every crack of bark; we made soda from the first batch, it has a fresh-bitter bite. 

Dandelions are strong and fast - from their flowers I made a mock-honey. No wonder the bees love these florets!

Today in the dampness I felt that the earth was holding warmth, and pressed boot soles into soft clay-mud around the empty horse field - while Dog snuck off to feast on things unknown, hiding in the rising crops, sheepish in recall, wolfish in lip-licking.

Peas, I remind myself. I’m going to try some in a pot. 

I daresay there’ll be jokes. 





Comments

Harry Hamid said…
I'm not up on flowers, or plants of any kind, for that matter, so even more than "pea pot," the word "nasturtium" got my mind going. It's a real flower, I see, but it sounds like a mean one.
28 April 2018 at 01:15
Lisa Southard said…
The name is misleading (and awkward to spell) luckily - they are boisterous like friendly little peppery dragons, not at all mean :-)
28 April 2018 at 21:41
Geo. said…
Delightful photos, Lisa: Happy dog contained in bubble, polytunnel --a portal into magic. And have I told you lately, I sure like how you write?
5 May 2018 at 23:53
Lisa Southard said…
Thank you - and yes but I don't get tired of hearing it! I am much like Dog in that respect :-)
Many happy returns of Maytimes to you and yours :-)
6 May 2018 at 20:30
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Contact Pants Conundrum

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...
2 comments
Read more

Back From The Future Blog Party

Another joint blog adventure- if you want to see who else said what the list of participants is here . The premise is this: 'You're up before dawn on a Saturday when the doorbell rings. You haven't brewed your coffee so you wonder if you imagined the sound. Plonking the half-filled carafe in the sink, you go to the front door and cautiously swing it open. No one there. As you cast your eyes to the ground, you see a parcel addressed to you ... from you. You scoop it up and haul it inside, sensing something legitimate despite the extreme oddness of the situation. Carefully, you pry it open. Inside is a shoebox -- sent from ten years in the future -- and it's filled with items you have sent yourself. What's in it?' Here's how I imagined it: Before dawn? Shadows outside, first forming. Sleep has gone, I don't know where. Coffee I can find. All the way from Machu Pichu, this fair-traded pack. Scissors are in the drawer, which ...
26 comments
Read more

Hometime Foam Time

It was hot outside, cold indoors. When we were freed from the hall I opened my car thinking oven gloves might be required for driving. I was weary. I was lined up for a row of shifts- but the evenings are lighter now, and the beach was calling. I drove a wiggly route to Veryan (the road I chose was closed) and down to Carne Beach. Since I had checked the weather the wind had turned easterly, and the tide was in. There were waves smacking over a disappearing line of fine sand. Undeterred I wriggled my swimsuit on and went to play in the foam.  Neither air nor sea was particularly cold. Blue and cloud patterned sky, blue and turquoise patterned sea, flowers blooming and swooshed by the wind, and the warm brown crags of rock: to be here was to be directly connected to the source of all existence.  Home time was foam time, and vice versa. Afterwards I sat in my car, door open, eating a square of dark chocolate, watching the white flecks and trying to work out if the dark dot was a...
Post a Comment
Read more