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Wild

Embryonic Peace

sproutlings 2018

It’s warmer outside than it is the house this morning, one of the first days so far this year that I can say that. So, that sees me taking my legume sproutlings (broad beans, french beans and peas) outside to germinate in their plastic covered tray. I don’t know whether it will work, but you have to reach for the light where you find it.

Inside the house it feels pretty grey, and not just because it’s waiting for the sun to hit the windows or the late heating oil delivery. It’s the radio – with the news of the US, UK, and Fr attack against Syria. I’m struck by the contradiction of this experience. The warm sun outside, the chatter of the sparrows from the hedges, the tentative life of the beans – the peace of it. Not so for the people of Damascus and Homs, this morning.

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The Language of Crows

Night-black; void-black; black as December-seas – crows can be encountered like silhouette cut-outs on a sunny day; you can’t expect them to move, to soar, to have life. They sit sentinel and watching. Maybe that is why this effusive bird has garnered such a dire reputation through the ages, from being the harbinger of death and the herald of war to even having the title ‘carrion’ appended to its name.

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