Documenting the seasons of coastal Dorset. I'm a complete amateur so don't trust I'm always right. If ever you see I'm wrong - whether with identifications or in anything else - do say!

Thursday, 16 October 2008

TODAY'S POST (a rebellion).


This is a post left over from when Loose and Leafy was a work of fiction. Later, it evolved into what it is now - a blog about the wild plants of the South Dorset Coast.

To make sense (in so far as there is sense) of these early posts, you may like to take a look at Esther in the Garden.

Blogger has changed much in recent times. I'm not sure if the odd formatting on this page is because I was new to things then - or because flaws have crept in over the years.

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I seem to have gone completely off track with this blog. What with Mr Johnson trotting in and out and threatening to dump Robert and Caddis on me . . . (it'll be Cherry or Cerise or whatever she's called next!) . . . everything keeps going out of my mind. The tour guide job has trailed off since winter first waved its grey fingers . . . well, what with one thing and another . . . I haven't really wanted to address the issue of why I haven't a garden - which is where I started. A few days ago, I dug out a list of the dreadful-little conical-little flat-branched and totally uninteresting plants and mini-trees and micro-bushes the landscape gardener put in for me (and which I took out again) but I've lost track of that somewhere around the house. Unlike Esther, I'm usually very particular where I put things so losing the list was clearly a psychological move - and I'm not inclined to go back on it. I'd decided on a blog structure too. There had to be leaves and stones and bark and things. And I had bookmarks down the side of the page and a bookend at its foot. That seems to have gone for a burton. (I wonder what a burton is. Is it some kind of bun?) But I'm not too bothered. I think I'll pander to my psychology
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. . . . . and my psychology is already rebelling against all the wonderful photographs of autumn colours which I know are on the way. I will pour over them. I will peer into the pictures.
I will wish (for a few moments) I lived where such trees were already living. But when I leave the screen, I'll feel sorry for the overlooked muddy tracks and dieing grass and weeds which haven't even noticed it's autumn and which are chugging on perfectly happily whether we step on them or not . . . and then I'll get to thinking I'd like to show Rosa Sinensis what Portland looks like when you can't quite see it . . . so I've decided not to wait but to bung all these things down on a page now and call it 'Today's Post'.
(Sunrise Lighting Purbeck)
_ _ _ _ _
For The Next Post
For Yesterday's Post

16 comments:

GardenJoy4Me said...

The beach and sunrise shots are simply gorgeous : )
I think we all have a bit of rebellion in us at one time or another ?

Lucy said...

Hello Garden Joy

I could certainly spend more time contemplating the sea than a weed . . . but sometimes I feel the resilience of weeds isn't given enough honour.

The flowers that look like chamomile are growing right down on the beach. I suppose some earth has flaked into the sand to give them some nutrition . . . but it's a brave little plant, living down there.

Lucy

Ron Eklof said...

Thanks for the phrase quest. Having not heard it before this very day, I did a google.

"It is said that there was a series of advertisements for beer in the inter-war years, each of which featured a group of people with one obviously missing (a football team with a gap in the line-up, a dinner party with one chair empty). The tagline suggested the missing person had just popped out for a beer — had gone for a Burton. The slogan was then taken up by RAF pilots for one of their number missing in action as a typical example of wartime sick humour."

Be well, be rebellious

Lucy said...

Hello Ron

I think I'd rather have a bun than a beer . . .

But the background you give the phrase is very moving. I think it will haunt me. I will remember it every time I hear the term.

It's not a bad thing though - to have reminders of war in our language.

In the midst of life . . . etc.

Lucy

Lucy

Mr. McGregor's Daughter said...

Well, part of the title of the blog is "Loose," so it is fitting that it should be more free form & reflect whatever you feel at the moment. I live my life as a series of little rebellions because I have too many responsibilities for larger rebellions. I would love to rebel against the tyranny of the front lawn, but the spouse won't let me.
I love the shots of the barren tree & the seashore. The trees here aren't barren yet, but I do look forward to seeing the bare branches of the Burr Oaks. This year I find I'm drawn more to taking photos of fallen leaves than of trees in their full glory. I wonder what that means.

Lucy said...

Hello Mr McGregor's Daughter

I don't know whether it is to do with the passing of time or just a change in interest or taste - but where I used to be impressed by the large-scale (forests of autumn colours and mountain ranges) I'm drawn more, nowadays, towards detail.

Shape and line too.

Although I like very much to be amongst trees in full leaf, visually, I think I feel a greater emotional response towards branches in winter . . . their stark lines . . . their contrasts with the sky behind.

My eyesight is getting worse. Quite possibly. when I'm old, I will revert to liking mountain ranges and big-splash forests best!

Lucy

rosa said...

Beautiful. Thank you! Everytime I think about uprooting and moving somewhere, anywhere, I am brought up against the fact that I was brought up next to the water, and I feel a bit...claustrophobic when I'm living in its semi-immediate environs. I don't sail, surf, or even like seafood, I'm a heart-felt landlubber, definitely. But nonetheless I think I do better when near the ocean. So thanks for the look at your sea!

rosa said...

Oops! I mean when I'm NOT living in its semi-immediate environs. Important little qualifier!

Frances said...

Hi Lucy, nice to see you have that bit of fight in you. The Burton story was particularly moving, I had never heard the term. I appreciate you being drawn to the opposite of color overload from the hardwood foliage change. Is it that you want no one to feel left out, sympathy even for the overlooked bare branches? I have a daughter like that, a true Libra, looking for balance in all things. Chickenpoet. Wanting all to have their fair share, in everything.
Frances
http://fairegarden.wordpress.com/

joey said...

Rebellious is fine, Lucy. Tastes and interests change throughout the years and change taps into our creative side. My garden tastes have evolved through the years ... color, texture, form most important and various shades of green delight me.

Autumn is sometimes almost too much ... brilliance shouts! This bittersweet time of year is when I find shooting in black & white very soothing.

Plant Mad Nige said...

I always thought 'burton' meant Burton Ale, ie, from Burton upon Trent - where the world's best beers were brewed before multinationals took over most of the brewing. So if something has 'gone for a burton,' it's no longer interested in working on account of being intoxicated.

Lucy said...

Hello Nige

. . . Yes . . . but take a look too at Ron Eklof's interesting comment - which shows how it moved on from beer to something much darker.

Lucy

Dee/reddirtramblings said...

I'm often rebellious especially now that I'm older. I tried to be such a good child, and it got me nowhere. I loved the shots of the ocean. I, sometimes, want to be there.~~Dee

Crafty Green Poet said...

beautiful series of photos - very atmospheric

Lucy said...

Hello Everyone . . . some of the comments people left on 'Today's Post' (a rebellion)were so interesting, I decided to answer them in the blog posts rather than indivisdually here, beginning with the next post along - 'A Mustard Autumn'.

Lucy

Lucy said...

P.S. Frances - what's a 'Chickenpoet'? Lucy