Mud

 I gave up on mainstream media a while back.

And now I follow alternative media.

The shows pop up in my YouTube feed.

(Did you notice where Russell Brand became a born-again Christian? And how he now punctuates his schtick with pious ejaculations?)

But increasingly I'm thinking "Now which of you can I trust?" and "What's your agenda?" and "Why do I care about the doings of the power elites anyway?"

And this image comes into my mind of a person crossing a vast churned up field, every step laborious, the mud sticking to their boots....

The May Is Out

 

The May is out- just in advance of the beginning of the month for which it is named. I know nothing more glorious. I love cherry blossom, but I love hawthorn just as much, perhaps even more because it has an outlaw vibe. Cherry is domestic, hawthorn is wild. Traditionally you don't bring it into the house. It's a fairy tree. Hurt it and it'll hurt back- or perhaps the offended fairies will.  It carries knives.....

And where there's a lot of it there's this heady, heavy scent. It's not a pretty scent. Walter de la Mare has a poem entitled "The hawthorn hath a deathly smell"- which is probably a quote from some profoundly obscure 17th century author. Some people hate it. The flowers release a chemical called trimethylamine- which is also released by decaying flesh....

We had a great deal of hawthorn on the farm. The picture at the top of this post was taken there. When we moved to Eastbourne it was one of my priorities that we should plant a hawthorn in the garden.....