Painting by: ged mitchell
Snakes Head Fritillary aesthetically
Rendered in tangerine.
Tadpoles, frogspawn, bottle – green flies,
Rainbows that spanned the blue sky – and this time – didn’t lie.
Sweet Pea tendrils.
Young green leaves,
A slew of colourful bracket fungi (Trametes versicolor!)
The poisonous dewdrop of exquisite trumpet – like Datura blooms.
(We need to know the difference between these!)
Bee pollen grains.
I see all this; back through the year, a review so far.
Acknowledged via my unashamed touchstones – the natural world,
My gardens, the trees, the earth, and the birds.
My universe…My dreams.
The ribbon-like foliage of Phormium tenax,
The identifying spore prints of varying mushrooms.
Waxwing crests echoing stacks of colourful
(Rowan) Mountain Ash berries.
Centipedes segmented backs.
Prunella (self-heal,) who never tires of her tender art,
Mending bleeding hearts.
Cinnamon worms of peeling Acer griseum bark, catch on
Iris foetidissima seeds in their dry cracked manilla cases.
Adders Tongue Fern.
And oh! those so rich sunsets, I would gladly have died to stay
In their sweet glow for eternity (or another hour?)
Whether they fell into sea the mountains or estuary.
Would you have happily fallen in along with me?
Wide-brimmed straw hats.
Looking through smudged October/Rudbeckia tinted spectacles!
From here I see so much. A lone silvern star,
Amidst such wonderful glowing, wind blown – imagination sowing,
Exaggerated Autumnal tones.
Red squirrel ear tufts.
Across the honest months of beautiful rebirth.
Promised full growth that brought forth
The (hinted at weeks ago) glut of fruit
And seed – so bountiful a harvest in truth, indeed.
Bare legs in summer skirts (not mine!)
Winged sycamore seeds, as light as the ears of golden Stipa oats,
Flyaway Campanula petals,
The same bells that tolled for the coming gales.
Tales told of peas as green as my waterproof coat.
Hills, a mountain, these are mine!
Definitely my rounded Howgill fells (benign, sleepy, elephantine,)
But alive in a Beltane sunrise! The Orchid purple dusk when we found
Blackbird’s fine bluey-green, speckled eggshells.
A fairy ring.
The elegant eye stripe of visiting Redwings
And scores of Fieldfares (their fellow cousin thrushes)
Now rushing in, arriving just in time to feast on abundant
Ripe – orange/yellow – crab apple windfalls.
A rainbow trout.
Juvenile figs! (’twas such a good year.) Something sexy speaks too…
Rivulets of storm water trickling down
Parched banks seeking the stripling beck, close the weir.
Questing, like blanched pale Couch grass roots.
Branched Birch twigs.
So much to be seen, even varietal flagella.
Love-in-a mist (Nigella damascena – if you insist!)
The spiralling bore holes of the Dutch Elm Beetle.
Such a classically insane moth! (Copper Underwing) Drawn of course to…
A candles flame.
It’s an almanac, a diary. A ledger full of all that’s good.
No need to turn back time, even if we could. It’s history stored
Forged in the folds of artistic imagination. And now as secure
As an oft-told folklore story forever in mine, forever in mind as…
Ged’s Marigolds and Sunflower seed heads.
Ian H. © milscapuldor 2014