I read the opening lines of a poem by Paul Eluard .
"The earth is blue like an orange
Never a mistake the words do not lie..."
People nowadays say "it's surreal" when they mean, no more than extraordinary. But surrealism, as a movement in art and literature, was something rather more curious. The use of nonsense to illuminate sense as silence opens the door to music.
Last year at this time I spotted a solitary wild garlic or ransoms plant growing among some crocuses in The Grove. When I went back I couldn't find it. Someone I suspected had taken it to make a salad. Today to my pleasure I see that it has appeared again. There's no mistaking the spiky allium leaves and the smell on your fingers when you squeeze them. The flowers have not yet shown. I am hoping that they will because it is a pretty plant and would if it spread be a welcome addition to the flora of The Grove.
Surprisingly the wild garlic I planted last year in the veg bed which didn't seem to thrive has emerged looking somewhat sturdier. It's a very fashionable foodie thing now, isn't it?
Two stands at today's Tunbridge Wells Farmers' Market were selling wild garlic plants. It is fashionable I think because it a delicacy which has been overlooked.
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