Thursday, 29 August 2013

Berry Picking As It Began














Late August, given heavy rain and sun
for a full week, the blackberries would ripen.
At first, just one, a glossy purple clot
among others, red, green, hard as a knot.
You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet
like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it
leaving stains upon the tongue and lust for
picking. Then red ones inked up and that hunger
sent us out with milk-cans, pea-tins, jam-pots
where briars scratched and wet grass bleached our boots.
Round hayfields, cornfields and potato-drills
we trekked and picked until the cans were full,
until the tinkling bottom had been covered
with green ones, and on top big dark blobs burned
like a plate of eyes. Our hands were peppered
with thorn pricks, our palms sticky as Bluebeard's.
We hoarded the fresh berries in the byre.
But when the bath was filled we found a fur,
A rat-grey fungus, glutting on our cache.
The juice was stinking too. Once off the bush
the fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour.
I always felt like crying. It wasn't fair
that all the lovely canfuls smelt of rot.
Each year I hoped they'd keep, knew they would not.
 
 
Blackberry Picking, by Seamus Heaney, via 1


















The Outfit:
Vintage 1970s does 1930s Ruffle Dress: from Ebay.
Blue Lace Up Soft Leather Sandals: old from the sale at Toast
 
 
The Soundtrack
Johann Pachelbel: Canon & Gigue in D Major 
 
 
All photographs taken by Mr Eve and myself as we started to pick the tayberries (a cross between raspberries and blackberries), the raspberries and the blackcurrants in our two fruit cages this August. They're now all picked, and have been turned by me over the last month into summer puddings, crumbles, cakes, ice creams and jams. For inspiration see my baking blog. Boy were those berries tasty! 
 
 
 I am delighted to be a part of the next Visible Monday, hosted by the lovely Patti from Not Dead Yet Style, click on the website link to see her outfit and those of many others.
 
 
You'll notice I've removed the patchwork background to this blog, to give it a cleaner look which hopefully shows off the photographs to greater effect. What do you think, do you like it like this?
 
 

Friday, 23 August 2013

Watering The Roses










 



 

They are fleeting.

They are fragile.

They require


little water.

They’ll surprise you.

They’ll remind you


that they aren’t

and they are you.
 
 
 
Flowers by Wendy Videlock, via 1



 
 

 



 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
The Outfit:
Vintage 1970s Cheesecloth Tie Front Cropped Shirt: from Oxfam Online Shop.
Boyfriend Jeans: very old from H&M
Pink Wedge Sandals: from Brazil
Black Hat: old from the High Street
 
 
The Soundtrack
Lana Del Rey: Blue Jeans 
 
 
All photographs taken by Mr Eve and myself this summer.
 
 
 I am delighted to be a part of the next Visible Monday, hosted by the lovely Patti from Not Dead Yet Style, click on the website link to see her outfit and those of many others.
 
I've been away for work much of this week so am behind on my blog post visits.
Look forward to dropping by soon!
 

Friday, 16 August 2013

Drift Softly
















A filbert hedge with wild briar overtwined,
And clumps of woodbine taking the soft wind
Upon their summer thrones; there too should be
The frequent chequer of a youngling tree,
That with a score of light green brethren shoots
From the quaint mossiness of aged roots:
Round which is heard a spring-head of clear waters
Babbling so wildly of its lovely daughters
The spreading blue-bells: it may haply mourn
That such fair clusters should be rudely torn
From their fresh beds, and scattered thoughtlessly
By infant hands, left on the path to die.
 
 
John Keats, via 1




 



 


 
 
 
 
 
 
The Outfit:
Vintage 1970s does 1840s Prairie Settler/ Edwardian maxi dress: from Ebay.
Cotton Parasol: from Ebay
Nude Pumps: very old from New Look
Straw Hat, just seen: from a charity shop
 
 
The Soundtrack
Espers: Flowery Noontide   
 
 
All photographs taken by me, using the self timer on my little camera, in our garden this Springtime.
 
 
I was thrilled to receive your kind comments on my special Summer Mermaid post; particularly what you had to say about the poem, as it's the first I've written in a very long time. Thank you, lovely people, you're the BEST!
 
 
 I am delighted to be a part of the next Visible Monday, hosted by the lovely Patti from Not Dead Yet Style, click on the website link to see her outfit and those of many others.

Thursday, 8 August 2013

Summer Story: The Mermaid's Tail









I have found my feet when I thought I had none.
Raised myself up from the depths like a slippery eel,
scales sticking to sand, matted seaweed crowning my head.
The years of waiting to be carried off by some great force,
those longed for arms the highest wave of all, they are no more.
 
 
Sailors did like to leer, even grope, reaching rough hands out to touch
me lithe as I swam beside their boats.
Many wrote my name upon their arm, promised to take me with them.
"Rescue me from my desire, oh take me to my desire",
that was my siren song.
 
 
I thought they would save me.
It was not that I was young:
I knew the wet satisfaction of other bodies 
and remembered even love (there's a lot you can do with fins you know),
but the desire for what I did not have was oh so strong.
 
 
The joy of getting what I wanted,
of not knowing what that was.
I who was naïve and unbroken as a dreaming child,
with my slippery scales
and my seaweed crown.









 






I had to find my feet when I thought I had none.
Draw myself up onto the sharp pebbled shore, wash myself up like a whale,
so I could sit, blinking, in the hot sunlight.
No one had taught me how to survive this.
To be beached is not to be rescued.
 
 
It was all I could do to sit and splutter,
smile with the achievement that made me cry out with fear
of what I could become.
So I taught myself, or rather, I stumbled I sweated
I fell.
 
 
I fell into myself, each time falling further,
crawling on my fleshy tail, slowly stretching muscles onto the land.
To expand and divide, to push forth with an urge for more,
the same propulsion that had
dragged me out of my ocean cocoon.
 
 
At first I could not abide the sight of grass,
that sickly rasping green
so different to the sweet fronds beneath clear water.
But anything was better than tarmac burns against my fins;
anything was better than the hollow prurient stares of passersby
 
 
as I scraped and rubbed,
 flexed myself along dirty pavements
with my gills gaping and torn,
falling further into myself,
falling out of myself.










 
  
 
 
 
 
 
I stuck to the grass. I was so nude, I had to.
Slithering within it as a snake, sucking the water from dew drops.
Flexing and falling
flexing and falling,
as I tried to move like people do.
 
 
And so I began to enjoy the earth,
 the flowers with their elegant sunfaces
kind water pulsing through veins within the soil. 
My silvered tail began to itch.
I was changing.
 
 
It was with an inexplicable pleasure
that I looked down to see my flipper split in two,
in its place these misshapen fleshy stumps,
the tiny fins of each individual toe still flexing and flexing, 
not falling.
 
 
 
 
 

 


 


 


 
 
 
So here I find myself in my own landly home,
no longer hiding in the grass
but loving it freely
for I am no longer nude,
no longer unbroken like a child.
 
 
Clothed in experience I walk with an even stride,
two soft soles placed keenly against the ground.
Only the air of swooping grace
a reminder of my swimming days,
the ghost of a tail flickering in azure shadows.
 
 
To stand in long grass straight as a soldier,
look out over the cresting waves
of this golden meadow that blows its rhythm to the breeze,
this is enough
to offer freedom.
 
 
Alone as myself,
still alone but not so.
Who can be alone amongst all this fresh wonder unknown?
Growing fond of a certain ancient tree,
I move my feetly roots towards him.








 

 









The sea, via 1



Poem The Mermaid's Tail written by me for this post. 


The Outfits:
 
1.
Vintage 1990s Silver See Through Dress: bought for me by a dear ex boyfriend from his sister's market stall in the 90s.
Turquoise Bikini underneath & Blue Flower Headband: very old from the high street.
Vintage 1970s Handmade Shell Bracelets: my mother's.
2.
Vuntage 1990s Silver Handkerchief Dress: from a charity shop.
Blue Sandals: from a sale at Toast.
Cotton Parasol: from Ebay.
Vintage 1990s Blue Shawl: mine from the 90s.
Vintage 1970s Shell Bracelets: as above.
3.
Vintage 1930s Brown Shot Satin Fish Tail Evening Gown: made by granny Kiki for her couture label Kiki Couture.
Black Heels: old from Hobbs.
Blue Necklace worn as headband: gift from a friend.
 
 
The Soundtrack
Tim Buckley: Siren Song   
 
 
All beach photographs taken by my mother; photographs in my mother's incredible summer garden taken by me using the self timer; photographs of me in the 1930s evening gown taken by Mr Eve and by myself; all using my little digital camera.
 
 
I am delighted to be a part of the next Visible Monday, hosted by the lovely Patti from Not Dead Yet Style, click on the website link to see her outfit and those of many others.
 
Also linking up with lovely Jane 's Shiny T Tuesday link up, where the theme is The Ocean, click on the link The Flight Platform to see her outfit and others.
 

Thursday, 1 August 2013

Enchanted Garden, & A Spy Girl Portrait














 

 








 

"Whoever considers as in a painting the great picture of our mother Nature in her full majesty; whoever reads such universal and constant variety in her face; whoever finds himself there, and not merely himself, but a whole kingdom, as a dot made with a very fine brush; that man alone estimates things according to their true proportions."
 
Michel de Montaigne, The Essays via 1























 





The Outfit:
Vintage 1970s Gypsy Dress: from Vix's brilliant online store Kinky Melon, thanks again dear Vix!
 Straw Hat: from a charity shop, with a vintage scarf of Kiki's tied around it
Gold Sandals: free with a magazine years ago
 
 
The Soundtrack
Van Morrison: Astral Weeks   
 
 
All photographs taken by me, using the self timer of my little digital camera.
 
 
I'm deeply honoured and delighted to have been immortalised in this wonderful portrait by the very talented Anne, our inspiring blogger friend at Spy Girl!
 
 
 
Not only has Anne so kindly given me this amazing portrait, but she's also hosting a brilliant link up at Spy Girl, which I'm very happy to be a part of. The theme this week? 70's flashback, perfect!
 
I'm also excited to be a part of Hat Attack, a new link party held by the wonderful Judith of Style Crone, do click on her website link to see her amazing hat, and do join in! 
 
Last but by no means least, I am as ever delighted to be a part of the next Visible Monday, hosted by the lovely Patti from Not Dead Yet Style, click on the website link to see her outfit and those of many others.
 
 
Sorry I'm very behind on my blog visits, hoping to rectify this in the next few days.
Every evening after work is presently spent picking (and eating) the glut of raspberries, tayberries, loganberries, wild strawberries, gooseberries and blackcurrants that have exploded in our fruit cages.  
 
 
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