In spite of the brevity of poppies the ones in my garden have worked hard at producing a myriad of different colours and shapes(thanks partly to Chiltern Seeds) I think this one said "Lilac fringed pompom" on the packet and a braver description you couldn't hope for. It's certainly accurate and doesn't make you wonder how on earth it's going to turn out - like the names of paint colours.
A friend of mine sent me this wonderful picture of an Irish wolfhound. I wish I'd dressed up like that when we went to the Irish Wolfhound Fun Day. To be in a field with forty or fifty other wolfhounds is a joyous thing. There was no barking, no growling, just a lot of lying around and cheers when in the veteran class the winner was ten years old. Such a brief life but every day packed with joy. What colour would a paint be that was called "Brief Lives?"I remember the leaflet someone sent me before we collected our first wolfie - Jai. "Think carefully" it said. " before you have an Irish Wolfhound, they are not as other dogs. Everything will change. Your life, your house, your car will be totally re-arranged around him. They do not realise just how big they are."
|I'ts all right for you stretching out. I'm squashed here.|
|Malva moschata album looking good before the heat wave.|
|There - "Agapanthus White" I'll write to the paint company|
It's that time of year for Shows. Most of the villages around us have held a flower show this weekend and there are numerous Agricultural and Steam Fairs dotted around where you can buy back all the stuff that was nicked from your shed.
This is one of my favourite poems. It is by George Mac KayBrown
They drove to the Market with ringing pockets
Folster found a girl
Who put lipstick wounds on his face and throat,
Small, and diagonal, like red doves
Johnston stood beside the barrel.
All day he stood there.
He woke in a ditch, his mouth full of ashes.
Grieve bought a balloon and a goldfish.
He swung through the air.
He fired shotguns, rolled pennies, ate sweet fog from a stick.
Heddle was at the Market also.
I know nothing of his activities.
He is and always was a quiet man.
Garson went three rounds with a negro boxer,
And received thirty shillings,
Much applause and an eye loaded with thunder.
Where did they find Flett?
They found him in a brazen circle.
All flame and blood, a new Salvationist.
A gypsy saw in the hand of Halcro
Great strolling herds, harvests, a proud woman.
He wintered in the poor house.
They drove home from the Market under the stars
Except for Johnston
Who lay in a ditch, his mouth full of dying fires.
George Mackay Brown