bark, mice, silence

Fish in tree.




My friendship for wild life falters when it comes to slugs and snails which eat my lettuce seedlings. To this black list I must now add mice. They eat the garden pea seeds which I sow fruitlessly every year. So at any rate experienced gardeners tell me. If it is not true, what else prevents the seeds from germinating? But if it is true, I must reconcile myself to these intelligent creatures, which seem to know where precisely the seeds are. Do they deduce their presence from the pea sticks which line the row? Or do they lurk in the long grass, watch me at work and mark the spot? Either way they seem to exhibit something like a sense of humour. Because on each of three occasions that I have sown disappearing peas, one, just one seed has eventually sprouted.

In the Michel Tournier's novel La Goutte d'or, there is a chapter which involves the arabic art of calligraphy. Among other things, it stresses the importance of correct breathing when working on a manuscript to ensure an even flow and rhythm in the lettering. At the head of the chapter is a sentiment, which though often expressed, I find particulalrly pleasing on account of the way it is expressed here:
Si ce que tu as à dire, n'est pas plus beau, que le silence, Alors, tais-toi!