{Hanging upon my kitchen wall and resting upon the bench beneath.}
Upon Camilla’s sound advice, when all else seems to fail, you can always take pictures. And so, I give you what will become a feast most splendid. With ears of corn and spuds covered in earth still (a King Edward and a Desiree), tomatoes and their tiny neighbours, a single capsicum and chives by the handful, all this and more it comes from my Mum’s garden, and friends, too. Little I find compares to the taste of the home-grown and with a bottle of my Mum’s prized pumpkin chutney, my Friday looks sure to be a celebrated affair of colour and taste. This can only be a good thing, for my hands are not creating what my mind sees. Time to cast the work aside and pirouette to the kitchen. Time to switch off and let rest.
(For those curious, Louise and I are working on a new piece for a group exhibition organised by Milly Sleeping. Here is but a small clue. I Feel Fine will run from the 15th to the 29th of March.)
(Today, my title comes on borrowed terms from Wordsworth.
The stream is flowing
The small birds twitter,
The lake doth glitter...
There's joy in the mountains;
There's life in the fountains;
Small clouds are sailing,
Blue sky prevailing
...may it serve your weekend well.)
