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Monthly Archives: March 2018

Reflections 2018 w12

Dr Who’s original Tardis was a garden shed!

This week I have been dismantling my uncles home-made shed, it was approximately 6’x3’x6′(at the apex) and it had floor space to stand in it. But it had an unbelievable amount of stuff in, almost as though stuff was being placed into the space, just created, as it was being emptied. When bagged for the tip the contents looked too much for the shed.

It was his shed for storing gardening equipment/paraphernalia, some of which was that old it just disintegrated upon movement, including pots – lots and lots of pots.

Now I don’t know what it is with gardeners, of the male variety, and their pot collecting hobby, my dad is the same and the numbers are far beyond practical use. I understand x amount of pots and several sizes of that number for potting on, but what I don’t understand is the logic of odds pots, the ones that won’t stack, are a different shape or the ones that are a size – and a bit, what was the purpose of saving, often for years, with no use of them at all, to get blown around and damaged. I am of course talking about plastic ones here.

No, I do not understand the pot collecting hobby, my preference for seedlings is homemade pots out of newspapers and trays. When I get my own allotment I may also include plug trays, but purchased along with the peg board to push the plugs out. I will have no desire to store more than the pots I require, and that is coming from a container veg grower.

That also goes for the junk collections found in sheds…Saved for the ever elusive just in case.

 

www.awanderthroughthemind.co.uk/reflections-2018

 

 

 

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Reflections 2018 w11

What do you get if you put three introverts that are comfortable within each others presence in a room together? Occasional banter, a lot of silence and quality time together.

Extroverts may be trying to work out the joke, introverts know what it means.

To the outside it may look like we don’t get on with one another, unless they enter at a banter part, each doing their own thing in the quiet. But not having to fill the quiet with words whilst at the same time being part of a group is a wondrous state of being. No one jostling for attention, not having to make an effort to look interested, to be polite because it is expected, or even being the star attraction.

No, don’t look to us to be a riotous party planner – when we have to attend and take part, or to start a social group that is supposed to attract new members into it, because this quiet group  is a natural state we try to attain but is one that we don’t get to have for very long. All it takes to change the dynamic is one extrovert friend, innuendo, and the puzzlement of quiet time over five minutes for the group to be more appealing and move away from bliss.

We can mingle, we can be in a party mood, we can laugh and have a good time, we can even be shocking, but best of all we can be quiet, with friends, in a room – for a really, really long time.

www.awanderthroughthemind.co.uk/reflections-2018

 

 

Reflections 2018 w10

I did a workshop earlier in the week and one thing has played on my mind since. It revolves around writing.

Writing was one of the words that came up for ways that we communicate, and when it was being labelled as how we would use writing it was given the title of – formal. I did not agree and my examples of forms of writing that would be anything but formal created a worrying reaction.

My three forms were poetry, which had little reaction, personal letters, and love letters. Now I am not in the position of being lovey dovey, and to be honest, I view the whole love thing rather sceptically at the present, so I am not on loves ‘side’, but the reaction that love letters got was – saddening.

It was riotous laughter, laughter at the very thought of having a love letter past the age of, what was called middle school, 8-12. I don’t know whether it is my age, or the fact I am a writer that still has the personal connection to ink and paper, also, for clarification, I love my ebooks – so it’s not a bias thing either.

Love letters have been found that were sent from grandmother to grandfather after they have passed away, stored for decades, and one hopes re-read from time to time. Some have had simple things like dried flowers with them, as a prop to stimulate the memory – this sentence should clarify one has never sent nor received such a letter in adulthood  – and stories have been told how the letters used to be sent with a spray of perfume, a photograph or lock of hair, again reinforcing the memory with sensory stimuli. You just cannot get this effect with an email, gif and an emoji. Look past the history of the events in the letters you can see the love between two people blossom, a side that no-one may have seen, not even their children. There is a power in the letters, which is why I believe they are saved, and sometimes cherished, right up to deaths door.

As a non romantic I hope that the love letter prevails past the instant technology, with it also the thought process that comes with the old fashioned way of writing; The implement – should it be the more expensive pen that writes smoothly with a uniform flow of ink? Or maybe the fountain pen, a pen that requires more time, patience in the pace and more control in the letters? The paper, coming from an artist, is just as important as the words used, some paper is ‘warmer’ than others, not only in colour but also in texture, making the choice of pad and envelope vastly important to how the letter is received before even opening. The whole process is tactile.

Wow a whole paragraph on just pen and ink, geek much?

One wonders if the group had a love letter sent to them, on and in quality paper, written with ink, emotion and style – would they laugh? Or would that letter touch a place in their heart; a place that they had forgot was there?

I do however find it sad that I , loves cynic, one who ponders what it wants, what its motives are, was also the only one in the group that believes that letters are also informal.

www.awanderthroughthemind.co.uk/reflections-2018

Reflections 2018 w09

Finally it feels like Christmas; just in time for the Easter Bunny.

The whole year it feels…out of sync. Spring weather is later, Summer – we’re still waiting for 2015’s – is almost myth, Autumn (Fall) is confused and Winter seems to have been napping.

Seasonal flowers are no longer seasonal. Some in my Mum’s garden have had Two seasons for the last couple of years, if they even came out at the correct one to start with. These are joined by the wildlife, butterflies were seen in December and the ladybirds have been trying to get out of their household hibernation all last month.

The jobs up at the allotment are a “do I – don’t I?” affair, even tidying up becomes hard work as the clayish soil clings to ones boots like brick snowshoes. Planting is a do I risk it now or wait till I have a rush on at the end of March or even April? Hoping against all hope that the weather will be good for growth but not too hot so everything bolts as it tries to go to seed. One has a couple of ideas for when I get my own plot in order to extend the season, maybe even all year round.

Youtube has lots of people experimenting with different styles and ideas.

I saw a snowplough for the first time in decades last week, the last one I saw spayed snow over all on the footpath, but this had the job of gritting rather than ploughing, the snow seems to have gone around Stoke on Trent for the most part. Other parts of the country fared a lot worse. Rain is forecast for next week, so normal weather to be resumed.

Which brings me to a question…

Do other Nationalities bother with the weather? What one means by that is…How much do you talk about it? Does someone in Alaska stand outside waiting for a bus to arrive, turn to the next person and say “cold today isn’t it?”, “it’s a little warmer today don’t you think”, or even “snowing again eh!”. Or someone in Saudi entering a shop to be greeted with “can you believe how hot it is today?”.

Or is it a very British thing to do? As we don’t want to seem ignorant, and yet don’t really want to talk to each other, especially strangers at bus stops, who may have been catching the same bus as us for years – and having the same discussions about the weather for the same amount of time.

Even our Radio presenters want us to phone in and talk about it.

Think about that. We as a nation are happy to listen to a radio show where we can listen to other listeners complaining about the weather, interrupted by a couple of songs and the news and – the weather.

We even write blogs about it.

www.awanderthroughthemind.co.uk/reflections-2018