Turn, turn, turn

Yesterday I brought four rose plants; today, after much
weeding and clearing out, they will be planted. One is an old rose dating from my wife's childhood. How soaked in memories is a garden.

These days I am lost in it,  this beautiful, English country cottage,  humming, buzzing, chirping  garden,   a joyous summer wilderness, winding,  without sense or direction,  all over the place, it's uncharted, sweet scented herbaceous borders, its tangled  daisies, veronica, sweet peas,  hebe, all kinds of leaves, vines and the low-hanging  bramley apple tree on which you knock your hat off,   terribly overgrown; this rekindled  passion  of my youth.

Before coming off Facebook  I read a moving account of how it frees you to be much  more  present in the physical world, so that has proved to be; though I miss the  love there, the concern and affirmation.

Turn, turn, turn, there is a season and a time for activism, but not now.

There has be another , a better way, to bring about change, than the hopelessly confused situation at present !

25 years of struggle and where has it got me ?

So alone here and my wife desperately sick and disabled.

Oh yes, they are going to hear from me, make no mistake, I WILL  go down fighting.

But right now, there are these roses to plant.






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