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Tony Grist

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Six Months Later [Jul. 16th, 2019|10:03 am]
Tony Grist
The very centre of the old bonfire site- where the compacted ash lies inches thick- is uncolonized- but all around- in a three-quarter's circle- is a thick stand of wild growth- mostly nettles and thistles- and I'll hear nothing against either- five to six feet tall, with bindweed starting to do its opportunistic thing among them. You'd need a machete to hack your way through. The pollinators are very keen on the thistles.

In the middle of the wild stuff are two magnificent poppies- dark red in colour. They're winding up their very short blooming season now and the seed pods are ripening. Heaven only knows where they came from because we've nothing else like them on the farm.

They put me in mind of Browning's poppy that

"...blows out its great red bell
Like a thin, clear bubble of blood."

In this case its deoxygenated, venous blood we're looking at.

I decided, around about the beginning of the year, that I'd rest the site and not burn anything on it for a while- and this is what happens...
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Comments:
[User Picture]From: poliphilo
2019-07-17 02:56 pm (UTC)
She wrote a lot- and got better and better. The World My Wilderness was her penultimate novel and The Towers of Trebizond- which most people regard as her masterpiece- was her very last.
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