Pulling weeds up from a blind confession

[sovay]

I am covered in sweat and quince blossom. This is one of those factually correct, rather less poetic than they deserve statements; the back yard has a quince tree which was busy molting as I finished mowing the lawn. After which I weeded around Rosabella, the late-blooming dogwood in the side yard; I wore my hat, but leaves and tiny green caterpillars still ended up in my hair. And scratches on my arms from all the twigs and branches I gathered out of the way. And when I blow my nose, I get pollen. Nature wins. If I start to root or flower, I'll let you know.

I did celebrate May Day this year; nineweaving and I went to Theatre@First's next-to-last-night of The Winter's Tale, music by sen_no_ongaku, which was both seasonally apt and (Autolycus for the win!) really awesome. But I completely forgot to post anything for the day. I don't know why that should matter; Livejournal is the world's most cheap-ass ritual, but there you are. So I think A.L. Lloyd's "The Derby Ram" properly belongs to midwinter, but I offer it here anyway: it was stuck in my head all the time I was surrounded, sometimes inconveniently, by the fruits of spring, and therefore I say it counts.

And indeed, my lads, it's true, my lads—I never was known to lie
And if you'd been in Derby, you'd seen him the same as I . . .

Comments

[greygirlbeast.livejournal.com]

Livejournal is the world's most cheap-ass ritual

Close. But I would argue that LJ is third, after Facebook (2nd Place) and Twitter (Fisrt Place).

[sovay]

But I would argue that LJ is third, after Facebook (2nd Place) and Twitter (Fisrt Place).

. . . yeah. And if there's something out there that can beat Twitter, I don't want to know about it.

[nineweaving.livejournal.com]

If I start to root or flower, I'll let you know.

The gods who mortal beauty chase,
Still in a tree did end their race.
Apollo hunted Daphne so,
Only that she might laurel grow,
And Pan did after Syrinx speed,
Not as a nymph, but for a reed.

Nine

[sovay]

Still in a tree did end their race.

I should be so lucky!

[strange-selkie.livejournal.com]

Could you send us some quince blossoms? They're excellent in fertility charms, and quince have gone out of the market for the year here. I'll email you our address if you don't have it hanging about.

You could probably also get your mother to breathe on them or something. We'll send wheat and mead!


You are missed!

[sovay]

I'll email you our address if you don't have it hanging about.

Please do. The search function on my e-mail no longer works, which is immensely unhelpful when looking for things like addresses. I will put some quince blossom in the mail to you tomorrow.

[ap-aelfwine.livejournal.com]

Covered in sweat and quince blossom? That sounds as if it deserves the amount of poetry you've given it, but perhaps it's only me. I'm writing about 18th century theatre, and amn't really on an even keel. Hopefully this isn't too nonsensical to a more balanced mind.

I'm glad you celebrated May Day.

I don't know why that should matter; Livejournal is the world's most cheap-ass ritual, but there you are.

For some reason I love this sentence.

Thanks so much for the A.L. Lloyd. I'm looking forward to listening to it. I've this feeling there's some track of something that I should post for you, but it's escaped me altogether the now which one that would be and what's the reason. Hopefully I'll recollect it in the next some while.

[sovay]

I'm writing about 18th century theatre, and amn't really on an even keel.

I don't know. If you're going to be unbalanced about something, eighteenth-century theater sounds like a good pick.

[ap-aelfwine.livejournal.com]

I don't know. If you're going to be unbalanced about something, eighteenth-century theater sounds like a good pick.

It's not so much that I'm unbalanced about it as that I'm unbalanced by it. I've been having real trouble making way with this paper, and it didn't help that I ended up taking an excessive dose of St. John's Wort for a couple of weeks--apparently what an excess of the same does to me is that it makes me depressive and even more ADD than I'd otherwise be.

Well, it will be done soon. Not good, but done.

[clarionj.livejournal.com]

I'm sure I'd feel sticky and itchy and miserable, but the way you write it, it sounds like the perfect melding, so that I'm wishing for a quince tree, or at least some nature scratches on my arm. How is it that when you write less than poetic, it's still grander than most :)

[sovay]

How is it that when you write less than poetic, it's still grander than most

I try to use my powers for good . . .

[clarionj.livejournal.com]

*smiles* We're grateful.