I like your analogy with poetry, and you are right. Fact is that my parents
like it, it is their poetry to do all that effort to grow something,
definitely as expensive as if their crop was made of gold. A good day from
here, anny
Anny Ballardini
http://annyballardini.blogspot.com
http://www.fieralingue.it/modules.php?name=poetshome
The aim of the poet is to awaken emotions in the soul, not to gather
admirers.
Stalker, Andrei Tarkovsky
----- Original Message -----
From: "mallin1" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Tuesday, November 30, 2004 12:20 AM
Subject: Re: for what is left of a Sunday:
> Dear Anny
>
> Sounds so much work for your parents. Sorry. My friend on the allotment is
> nearing eighty. He is my mentor and guide. He continually asks me: "you
> enjoying this?" He'll stand over my shoulder while I'm digging and say:
> "little and often" then laugh. He brings his youngest grand daughter to
the
> allotment and she runs about like it's some sort of magical garden, which
it
> is.
>
> Like poetry, when it is an utter fatigue and toil, it cannot quite be.
Ages
> ago I read a report on State collective farming in Stalin's Eastern Bloc.
> The labourers toiled all day on the huge fields. Versus the potential of
the
> land area, they'd achieve a harvest of 20% or so. After a long day, they'd
> go back to their drab apartment blocks. Amidst these blocks there were
small
> shared gardens. Together, for themselves, they'd achieve over 100% harvest
> of what would be expected from the plot!
>
> The poetry is your balcony plants. And it's my elderly allotment friend
> testing me - not about what I may produce competitively - just on the
basis
> of my enjoyment. Without that enjoyment the ground will become sterile.
> Poetry too.
>
> All best wishes, Rupert
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