Tuesday, June 26, 2012

lights leeks Zarathustra












Traffic lights deconstructed. A  postcard-sized doodle that went wrong and which I have turned into a montage.

For the last few months I have been collecting the cardboard cylinders round which kitchen rolls are wound. The object is to use them  as collars to blanch leeks. Setting out  leek plants is easy anyway. You make a hole with a dibble and drop the young plant into it. Water poured from the can into the hole pulls the root down, and nature takes care of the rest. This time I sink the cylinder into the hole and drop the plant into the centre of it. I water in the roots as usual. The  cylinder issues a hollow gurgling sound  which is a pleasure to hear as it fills with water, a sort of thank you. With this system the leeks should should be longer as well as  more of stems being blanched.

For my grandson's birthday I set aside Frederich Nietzsche's Zarathustra's Discourses in the Penguin 60's Classics series. It fits neatly in a n enevelope with a card. The card is a copy of Traffic Lights Deconstructed above. It may amuse if not enlighten him. "Behold I am weary of my wisdom, like a bee that has gathered too much honey; I need hands outstretched to take it."
















3 comments:

Ellena said...

Interesting leek collars. I use these cardboard tubes to roll up freshly ironed table runners for storage.

Gros Calin said...

My father always referred to it as a dibber. However this may be attributable to West Riding practice or an imperfect understanding of gardening tools. Now I think about it, I'm astonished my father gardened at all. It may have been a need for fresh vegetables because his gardening was limited to the late forties. He was overweight and sweated profusely when digging, not appearing to enjoy what he was doing. However he did introduce me to one of the few gardening rituals that brings genuine rewards: the delicious treasure hunt associated with "lifting" (Is my use of jargon correct?) potatoes.

Lorenzo da Ponte said...

Sorry about the throwback. I shall now hum La Ci Darem La Mano in the hope that I get back to my real self