Parsley seeds are notoriously slow to germinate. I used to sow them in the ground but they took so long to germinate that it was hard to separate them from weeds. Nowadays I sow a tray of seeds and transplant the seedlings into the ground and into pots. According to superstition the slow germination is because the seed goes down to visit the devil seven times and transplanting displeases the old boy, hence the supposed ill luck. My row of parsley plants will with a bit of luck keep us supplied for the summer, and the seedlings, which I will plant in pots, should see us through next winter.
Old things worn and polished by time, tools with wooden handles, blades fined honed over the years, stone eroded by footsteps over centuries, old faces, too, lined with laughter and pain move me constantly with a deep sense of recognition, of fellow feeling of understanding.
Dearest is better beginning to take sips of soup, fruit juice, her nose in a book. Good progress.
3 comments:
The swans are beautiful, the perspective seems all dreamy and confounded.
Parsley's coming up reluctantly, coriander racing ahead, even self-sown stuff from last year's crop in amongst the peas. Hamburg parsley, this year's experiment, very slow and patchy and, as you say, hard to separate from weeds.
The best of news about Dearest. Altogether a lovely post.
There's really nothing I can add to Lucy's comment, with which I agree - except that I didn't know the seeds went walk-about to visit he-who-mustn't-be-mentioned down below, allegedly
Those old things polished - isn't the attraction the fact that only time can bring about this state. A mechanical process would never manage such seemingly inevitable curves.
The worst ailments are those when reading is impossible. The book is a comforting symptom and symbol. I wish you both many more of those.
Post a Comment