Sunday, August 01, 2010

artichoke, weather, counting

Posted by Picasa At the Farmers' Market, the Belgian who grows and sells vegetable and herb plants and some produce, tells me about the cavolo nero, kale which I am buying from him, the purslane,  and the sprouts and black cherry tomatoes from his nursery  which I have already bought and planted, and in reward for my interest, throws in this artichoke, as a present.

The local weather forecast on the BBC website (Tunbridge Wells, it  says) promises sunny intervals. The picture  is white cloud half covering the sun. Outside the sky clouds over, a blanket of grey. Small rain drops fall like cold needles on my bare arms.

Every day I find myself counting. I count the amount  of time I hold the hose of  over  a row of plants. I count the number of turns that I give when, on Sundays, I wind the two bracket clocks in the house. I count the slices of peach which I arrange on  plates for breakfast. I count spoonfuls of sugar, spoonfuls of flour, spoonfuls of water in recipes. And this morning I count the morning glory flowers in bloom on the fuchsia: this morning there are nine.

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