I heard a familiar sound whilst digging today and looked up to see a helicopter circling overhead and reappearing at regular intervals, sightseeing flights I think. I was reminded of living in Newlyn, Cornwall and seeing the Scilly helicopter flying over to the islands and back, like a bee to its hive, day in day out. During our penultimate year there this sight triggered a repetitive emotion. Our then 18-year-old was working on Tresco, which though only about 20 miles away involved a prohibitively expensive flight or sea voyage. Having taken the job and departed all within a brief period of 7 days our first offspring quite literally flew the nest.
At this time I had negotiated with a neighbour the use of some land behind our house and was digging up the most insidious rhizome I’ve ever encountered - bamboo. This was when I ‘discovered’ digging in all its glories. The patch I was working had obviously been used as a rubbish tip. I dug up some strange metal objects that may have originated from the harbour below, also some tiles from an Edwardian fireplace and my most intriguing find a discarded empty tube of oil paint. The land I was working was just in front of a house occupied in the last century by one of the more famous artists of the Newlyn School. I want to believe that the contents of this object are now seen and admired by many, perhaps in the painting ‘Blue Door’ that Harvey must have painted from about the spot at which I discovered the redundant tube.
Here, today, on my allotment poppies are popping.
2 comments:
Love that phrase "Here, today, on my allotment poppies are popping." Mine are just slowly shrugging their way out of their jackets.
This makes me think that because your poppies are in your garden at home you see the gradual where I see a time-lapse version. Probably both our poppies are unfolding at about the same speed, do you think?
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