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ELEPHANT HAWK MOTH NOT SHOELACE (Episode 55)

 ELEPHANT HAWK MOTH NOT SHOELACE 55 

PodBean Link for those who like to listen


 

This morning the air is fresh after the rain. It carries the scent of green leaves. A cockerel, a distance away, crows in the morning while smaller birds sing for the new day in hedgerows nearby. 

 

Alt Text says this week’s photo is a caterpillar on a branch. It is. And I have been going out each day to observe this creature and wish it well. I have even proudly shown the postman. I love the fact that most years I get to see one of these elephant hawk moth caterpillars in the front garden, and this one has been sticking around in the same bush these past few days. This year I learned that they like to feed on fuchsia and I feel glad that I left the largest bush in the garden relatively untamed. I did wonder if I would be able to see it cocoon, but I read that they bury themselves in the soil to do this.

 

When I was young I loved Autumn for the exciting new term at school and the joy of being one year older and ready to learn different things, I enjoyed the change of colour on the trees and the way fallen leaves piled up. I fell out of love with it for a while as an adult and had to remind myself to see it as a season of its own again and not a period of time that led to Winter. Now I take time to listen to the echo of the passing of time and immerse myself in the essence of Autumn as it unfolds around me. I have been extending my walks when the sun is out to make the most of feeling the heat on my skin, and readying my favourite jumper because I sense the end of t-shirt walks soon.

 

There was sorbet from Snugbury’s ice-cream farm last week (chocolate truffle and mango) when we went to see the enormous Paddington Bear sculpture and it was lovely to be out in the world, just being, for a portion of the afternoon. I have spent a lot of time lately planning work things rather than doing work things and it was good to just leave all of that behind for a while. I like ice-cream (vegan versions) and we have a scoop and cornets here, but nothing beats eating it out in the world as a real treat. And nothing beats a moment or two in time of remembering to be.

 

If you want to lean into the season of Autumn with me I offer you two autumnal poems: Conker and They Are Autumn... (Oh and if you are wondering about the title of this blog there's a great photo of a shoelace that's not a caterpillar on my website.)


Conker

You slip out smooth;

your emergence perfect gloss.

 

You are Autumn

seemingly solid as wood.

 

I pocket you,

roll you between finger and thumb.

Palm you

as my lucky charm.

 

Yet there is a hint of death in you.

And a tree.

 

I am holding you still as I walk.

Daring myself to lick my fingers

for the taste of you.

 

 

 

THEY ARE AUTUMN

 

And they look delicious;

smooth, polished nut-brown on the ground

with their snug little green hats.

 

And I want to eat some,

but I have forgotten their name

and I am not sure if you can.

 

I give in to the temptation

to tread on some,

to feel them hold out

until they crack under the weight of me.

 

All I know is they fell from the tree.

 

Its leaves are telling me it’s an oak,

and I know so much depends upon it,

 

but it takes me all day

to remember they are acorns.

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