Our son left for Barcelona this morning, a three day drive for him. LiveWires 5 and 6 will be delighted to have him home again. We’ve had two delightful and very busy weeks of family visiting and now it’s very quiet here.
After putting the onions and second crop of shallots to cure, covering them each time it rained and then letting the sun, wind and daylight get to them, at last they are all plaited and hung or the ones with short stems are gathered in the trug. 
I was wondering if there were any poems about onions and then I remembered the quirky love poem, Valentine by Carol Ann Duffy that I used to read with my teenage exam classes and which went down very well.
Not a red rose or a satin heart.
I give you an onion.
It is a moon wrapped in brown paper.
It promises light
like the careful undressing of love.Here.
It will blind you with tears
like a lover.
It will make your reflection
a wobbling photo of grief.I am trying to be truthful.
Not a cute card or a kissogram.
I give you an onion.
Its fierce kiss will stay on your lips,
possessive and faithful
as we are,
for as long as we are.Take it.
Its platinum loops shrink to a wedding-ring,
if you like.Lethal.
Its scent will cling to your fingers,
cling to your knife.
