Tuesday, June 10, 2008


Mrs Smith makes awful tea; weak. And the milk she put in it this morning was right on edge.

I saw her watching me, over the rim of her cup, daring me to drink it. I watched her back, over the rim of mine - and did.

* * * * *

There is one, joyous Bach-note that I listen to over and over again.

I know precisely where to place the needle on the gramaphone. I lower the arm, dash to the other side of the room - and wait. It hits me. (The note.) I go back, raise the arm, lower it, dart away - listen.

There's one blade of grass outside my window that I like above all others. I keep returning to it - admiring the way it reaches above its colleagues, its not-yet-completely-open leaf pointing straight into the morning sunshine; a maze spear in miniature.

I took Mrs Smith to see it.

Side by side, we stood on the pavement, admiring it. (At least, I was.)

Mrs Coverdale came and stood next to us. I explained about the blade of grass but she was inclined to chat. I was glad when she looked at her watch and went.

Still, Mrs Smith and I stood, side by side, looking.

Tentatively, I invited her to look at some of the others.

"They're flowering," I said. "And I didn't plant any of them, they just came - and they flowered - and there are so many different kinds of flowers - and you wouldn't have seen them if I'd pulled them out."

(The Council Mows her grass. It tried to mow mine but I put up a notice saying 'Don't!'.)

(It was massive; that notice. They couldn't have missed it - but I still had to phone the town office seven times before they agreed to leave it alone.)

"I like that," she said, pointing at a small plant with delicate white flowers.

Shepherds Purse.

I've promised to give her seed.

* * * * *


Putting the cane in the centre of the pot instead of a plant.

I mean, I do put the plant in the pot too - but not in the centre - because that's where I've put the cane.

_ _ _ _ _


Barbee' said...

It makes me wonder: Could the one note and the one grass growing straight up, and taller, be a related happening? Perhaps the same way the cobras dance up straight to the music played by the Indian Fakirs.

Esther Montgomery said...

Barbee - I think you've cracked it!

Of course!

There must be a connection!

I'll have to see if there are other areas where this would work.

Perhaps I should go round the fields with a recording.

Think how massively we could reduce the need for chemical fertlisers - just with this one note!


Barbee' said...

There is something very strange going on in your garden!


so glad to hear that you are leaving some of your weeds! I have a new found fondness for weeds this year. I am also glad to hear that you are also a Bach fan. He is my favorite...well, I think Pachelbel's masterpiece canon in D is the tops, but everything else that Bach did follows that. His notes touch my soul. I'd love to know which particular part you fancy

Mr. McGregor's Daughter said...

Was it from one of Bach's organ pieces? I love the resonance of pipe organs, makes the floor vibrate sending the note right up through my feet. Think I'll go listen to Saint Saens organ concerto now.

Amy said...

Your mention of that "one perfect note" made me smile. I can really relate to that feeling of wanting to hear that sort of perfection in music over and over...and sometimes play it over and over. It's really been too long since I got out my music books and actually used my piano!

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Here at the gallery we all check your site first thing in the morning.
What will happen next!!!!

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