notes from five days

and a wee video revealing the insides of some leafy bundles

May 21

I haven’t boiled the cauldron since the summer fire prohibition came into effect last year, and had been waiting eagerly for May, so that I might once again make leaf prints on cloth.

Usually the fireban is lifted on May 1. This year it was pushed back to May 15, but a week on everything is still powdery dry and I still didn’t feel comfortable lighting a fire outside. But there are two or three people waiting for something warm to wrap around their shoulders and so I have had to give in to cooking my bundles on the gas stove. I would rather not use that resource as (like plastic) it isn’t sustainable. Heating a pot over a twig fire might seem as bad, but simply accelerates the decomposition those twigs would undergo if left to rot where they fall. Twig fires are also a very efficient source of heat¹ (small twigs burn bright) and easy to manage…except when everything is bone dry and there’s a persistent wind just waiting to create havoc.

So these bundles are going to be dealt with on the kitchen stove, and after cooking will be left to cool and contemplate in peace while I am away on a 24 hr field trip and thus safely far from the temptation (yes, even I find it difficult to resist) of prematurely unbundling.

May 22

I receive a message from my friends at Deep Deep Light about a little project we have been dreaming together (I was doing the dreaming while they were doing the doing)² to capture the very particular pink of the earth architecture of Morocco in a form that would come to life with a drop of water. It is done! They have made Rose Marrakech. I had been calling it “Rose of Marrakech” in my mind but it is the makers who rightly have the naming rights³. I love how they have made the exact colour I had in mind from the photos and paint-pools I sent them. My plan had been to surprise my fellow travellers in September with them, but of course something so delightful cannot be kept secret for long and so it is already in their shop. (I will remind paid subscribers of the discount code at the end of this post...a little benefit for your kind support.)

I then had the pleasure of writing a description for them. The first version is on their website already, but of course there were minor tweaks…I can never leave well enough alone.

I asked my friends the harvesters of rainbows to conjure a colour to gift to my fellow travellers on a journey through Morocco.

A hue that speaks of dusty walls, dried velvet rose petals, the scent of the spice markets and birdsong in hidden gardens.

A crepuscular colour that blooms gently from the tip of a brush like the first pink light of dawn warming to a westerly wind.

They made “Rose of Marrakech”.

Perfect.

May 23

A trip to the post office today revealed more delight. Two lovely parcels, the first containing multiple copies of Darby Hudson’s wee book “Darby, love (Alive things Mum said)” of which I ordered extras the minute I finished reading my first copy, so that I would have them on hand to give to friends. When you stumble on good words it is important to share them!

The second parcel was soft and squishy and when I opened it, revealed the VERY FIRST stitched fragment for requiem ! I have started a file for the names of the stitchers, and another one where the stitched words will be recorded in order of their arrival. I anticipate them creating a kind of aleatory poem…

Then I drove south to water my seaside allotment, and dig holes to add a few more plants. Gardening is such an optimistic occupation. Despite the ongoing drought and in a relatively short time, I have managed to establish several citrus, two apples, some of my favourite eucalypts (I’m going to try and squeeze in as many as possible, especially as so many of those I planted here on the farm have succumbed to the dry). Though rain has largely been absent there seems to be dewfall most nights, so I have been utilising the trick that originates from drier countries around the Mediterranean…that of placing stones around the base of each plant. You’d think that maybe the stones would accumulate too much heat for the roots, but miraculously that doesn’t seem to be the case. Just enough condensation occurs under each to help my weekly waterings keep most plants alive…except my wee Japanese maple. That was an over-enthusiastic and premature inclusion. I’ll have to try and sprout another seedling in a few years time when there’s more overhead cover. Meanwhile the Murraya paniculata (a shrub I have been trying and failing to grow on the farm for years) is even flowering (those stones are my friends). It has a fragrance that evokes gardenia with a dash of orange and something else I can’t quite put my finger on; and reminds me of New Orleans, one of my two favourite cities in the world (the other is San Francisco). Sadly I won’t be visiting either (or my much-missed friends there) for the foreseeable future.

May 24

I returned to the farm from my brief gardening break late in the day, so rather than unbundling the things lurking in the dyepot in the dark, I simply extracted them and let them rest on the kitchen sink. Sometimes it’s nice to simply contemplate the possibilities before the realities take over. But I did have my portrait painted…

Winnie gave me rainbow hair!!

May25

Unbundling at last. Here’s a quick wrap of the unwrapping.

All of the pieces will dry a bit lighter, and won’t glow the way they do when the sun shines behind them, but it’s fun to play with light for the video. The music is ‘the District Bounce’ from this fabulous album.

There was something else I wanted to tell you about, but my Sunday afternoon (as I was scraping my words together here) was interrupted by another visit from my three delightful mokos and so I had to abandon my typing and go play outside with them while their mother kindly replenished my firewood supply (she’s very handy with a chainsaw). Whatever it was will have to keep until it resurfaces…it’s dark now, and very much time to cook soup!

1. much better at boiling the kettle than a glowing log.

2. have you ever noticed how if you write a word often enough in a small space it begins to look really silly?

3. probably just as well…my son said “Rose of Marrakech” sounded like the keeper of a house of dubious repute. (what cheek.)