We buy a plant called Gaura lindheimeri. Four, unequal, narrow white petals, eight stamens bending backwards. Pollen sticking together in strings. The Botanical Garden, from which I take that description also says that it is found on prairies and in dry, rocky places and deserts. Tunbridge Wells offers none of those habitats so I hope it survives in its new home. This is a flower bed by the front door, once shaded by a bay tree, which we cut down a couple of months ago because it took away light from the windows of the house and the garden.
I stand in Grove and ponder the grey sky. Where has the sun gone? A cold wind comes up. The only consolation is the sound of the wind at the top of the trees. It is wild a and restless and doesn't give a damn.
Life investigating art - looking at curl on snail's shell and gate's curling shadow. How cool!
Wild, restless wind is one of my joys at being alive. I love to be out in winds of that nature, though not gale force strength, of course. Was out in hurricane force winds once, during Hurricane Betsy. Once is enough.
PS: upon enlarging the photo, I notice a bird beak mark and that part of the shell has been broken off. Hurray for the snail carrying on!
Yes, what a fantastic image with the repetition of the curl! And thanks to Crow, I also enlarged it and was saddened by snail cracked shell.
There's something about strong winds in trees that sometimes scare me a little, for we've had trees felled by windstorms here. Years ago, we had a huge maple near the house cut down because of that concern. It was a fear I never had in other places for the trees were never so big as here.
I was going to pick up on the repeating spirals too!
The story of the snail. It was resting behind a flowerpot on the front doortep when I inadvertantly disturbed it. Having placed it judiciously on the garden path and fetched my camera, I watched it and was able to record its route to the hedge where it eventually disappeared. As far as I know it is living there quite comfortably at the moment eating bits and pieces on the grass beneath the hedge. Having once had it shell pecked at by a bird, it has become a wise snail and only ventures out at night. As snails are bisexual it is called Prudence in one manifestation and Gordon, after the Prime Minister and former Chancelor of the Exchequer, in the other. Of only one bird it has no fear at all, and that is a friendly and benign Crow who watches over him/her from her perch on the rooftops.
I've been undergoing a spate of Japanese déja vu just recently and lo, here's another. This looks like taking a sand garden to an advanced level by adding mobile as well as immobile elements. Somehow a circle seems to be just the right symbol for bisexuality.
Pooting: Bluide - a new anti-freeze. The colour makes it irresistible to impulse buyers.
The mobility in the Zen garden I visited in Kyoto came from a hollow bamboo stem pivoted on a frame above a stream. It gradually filled up with water until it tipped over delivering a blow to a stategically positioned stone. The resulting resonant thud occurred at regular intervals of perhaps two minutes and introduced a sound dimension as well as movement. I recall no snails though the patterns in the sand curled gently in the wake of the rake.
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