Squeaky Nights

‘tis the season when the doors don’t close when windows stick and drawers jam when jam is fresh as fruit falls freely and days are drenched in cuckoo calls but the nights! oh the nights dusk settles as silent bats swoop but deep in the dark the big bats squeak frogs creak and click and…

The Weeks Fly By

The mist rolls in the day resumes the sun peeps out something blooms the damp rises the branch aches the web shivers something breaks the river runs the postman smiles the clouds collect something dies the weeks fly by as we anticipate the one moment an imagined date that might make life worth the wait…

One Woman’s Weeds…

I have been doing a little weeding around my cos lettuce, cavalo nero and mizuna. Lots of what I take out will go into supper and the rest to make weed tea.  As you will know from previous posts, I am a fan of weeds.  Have you read Weeds, Glorious Weeds?  or Wild Greens?  Tried…

This Place is in My Bones

Steampunk poetry evenings are a non-negotiable date in my diary. Last night,  the first Steampunk Poetry book was launched.  This enchanting compilation of local poems, by people we all know, edited by Lara Kirsten, is available at Steampunk for only R100 – hurry while they are hot!  I wrote about these special evenings a while…