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Daily Archives: April 17, 2016

Spring Growth, Dinnertime2 and Ferlinghetti

The garden is full of Spring growth and is a delight to look at closely.

Camassia flower

Camassia flower

Magnolia Stellata bud just opening

Magnolia Stellata bud just opening. I love the furriness of the buds.

Tulip

Tulip in sunset colours

Dinner tonight was from a supplement that came with the Guardian on Saturday, Easy Ottolenghi, Roast Leeks with Soy Beans and Buffalo Mozzarella. It really was easy and was absolutely delicious. There are several other recipes in the supplement that I plan on trying.  For other photos in the Dinnertime Photo Challenge this week, please click here.

Roast Leeks with Soya Beans and Mozzarella

Roast Leeks with Soya Beans and Mozzarella

Today’s poem has really been published in my previous post but now I’m in the groove for the month I just have to let you have this gem by Lawrence Ferlinghetti, Don’t Let That Horse.  I love it and hope you do too.

Don’t let that horse
eat that violin

cried Chagall’s mother

But he
kept right on
painting

And became famous

And kept on painting
The Horse With Violin In Mouth

And when he finally finished it
he jumped up upon the horse
and rode away
waving the violin

And then with a low bow gave it
to the first naked nude he ran across

And there were no strings
attached

 

 

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Weekly Photo Challenge – Dinnertime

Dinnertime here for a beautiful Blackbird……

Enjoying the fat cake

Enjoying the fat cake

Getting stuck in

Getting stuck in

Ready for the off

Ready for the off, dinner done for now

For others in this Challenge, please click here.

Today’s poem, one being posted every day this month of national Poetry Month, had to be something linked to my photos so here is Alfred Lord Tennyson’s poem ‘The Blackbird’. The ‘gold dagger’ of his bill is very evident in the photos.

 

O blackbird! sing me something well:
While all the neighbours shoot thee round,
I keep smooth plats of fruitful ground,
Where thou may’st warble, eat and dwell.

The espaliers and the standards all
Are thine; the range of lawn and park: 
The unnetted black-hearts ripen dark,
All thine, against the garden wall.

Yet, tho’ I spared thee all the spring,
Thy sole delight is, sitting still,
With that gold dagger of thy bill
To fret the summer jenneting.

A golden bill! the silver tongue,
Cold February loved, is dry:
Plenty corrupts the melody
That made thee famous once, when young:

And in the sultry garden-squares,
Now thy flute-notes are changed to coarse,
I hear thee not at all, or hoarse
As when a hawker hawks his wares.

Take warning! he that will not sing
While yon sun prospers in the blue,
Shall sing for want, ere leaves are new,
Caught in the frozen palms of Spring.

 

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