Saturday, October 11, 2008
late, bag, chicken
As with yesterday's maple leaf, it was hard to resist snapping this dandelion clock. There was, a sense of fellow feeling perhaps for its tattered quality and loss of adornments. Can a dandelion clock be fast or slow? Or just a little weary?
In the wind and bright sunshine, a plastic bag, transparent and without print or insignia, inflates and rises above the the High Street. With its two handles trailing behind it, it floats, like a flying jelly fish, above traffic and pedestrians.
At the farmers' market, I buy a chicken and ask the farmer about its provenance. "We have 10 acres for the chickens," he says, " and they peck around for worms among the bluebells." So pleased am I with the picture of chickens and bluebells that I omit to ask what they do for background when, as at this time of year, the bluebells are not in evidence.