Village Country Diary continued from previous page
the trees it grows up. It is not parasitic so doesn’t compete with the tree, and often lives in harmony with it. It doesn’t have to climb, and can grow along the ground, but finds trees handy as a scaffolding. However, ivy is very vigorous, and its sheer weight
may damage a weakened tree. It covers deciduous trees with leaves in the winter, making them more susceptible to storm damage. But it doesn’t directly damage the tree itself. Ivy has often been used as decoration, made into
wreaths (the young Queen Victoria wore a jewelled ivy wreath in her hair) or used because of the beauty of its leaf patterns. It was the most used plant for the Christmas wreath, often entwined with its partner the holly, and appears in carvings and ornamental metalwork, as well as being loved by flower-arrang- ers. It is beautiful all year round. Its flowers are vital for
insects in autumn and its berries for birds in winter. A real magic plant!
Here’s another magic plant: my poem linked to the Alvechurch Pumpkin Festival this October.
Pumpkin – maybe
Pumpkin – maybe
The pumpkin
Oakleaf pumpkin
I bought my Whitsun pumpkin in the Park, A poor wee thing, two leaves on a few roots, Took it home under the thunder and found a tub Crammed it with last year’s crumbly flesh-warm compost Planted it under my window in the sun. The sun shone and shone, the plant grew I watched its little tendrils corkscrew out Clutching the rose and climbing up the wall. Flower after flower opened, fêting every day And dying every day, but bright with hope. Bees and flies buzzed around it. But no fruit. Just sun after sun smiling and cheering loudly. Then one day, rain, and then a little swelling. I watched it grow to golf ball size and fall off. No fruit then. But my fruitless plant Still sent huge fireworks of stars each day As big as plates, now clutching the tomato plants. People passing by stopped and stared Dog walkers, children, neighbours, house-buyers Some asked me what it was, this giant tomato-flower, Other just smiled as brightness entered them. Late summer, and another swelling comes A cuckoo growing on the tomato plant Making me rewrite this poem as it grows. Not much chance, I think, in these cold nights Yet still it grows, despite a weakened stalk, Drinking the strength of a warm September But shaping longer than it is around – Is my pumpkin a marrow all the time? Who cares. Welcome whatever it is. Bright and beautiful as summer dawns It lifts my heart up higher than the house Flowering to feed the heart and soul True to itself, fading and renewing. Like poetry Like life, having to be rewritten, every day.
48 The Village October 2018
Page 1 |
Page 2 |
Page 3 |
Page 4 |
Page 5 |
Page 6 |
Page 7 |
Page 8 |
Page 9 |
Page 10 |
Page 11 |
Page 12 |
Page 13 |
Page 14 |
Page 15 |
Page 16 |
Page 17 |
Page 18 |
Page 19 |
Page 20 |
Page 21 |
Page 22 |
Page 23 |
Page 24 |
Page 25 |
Page 26 |
Page 27 |
Page 28 |
Page 29 |
Page 30 |
Page 31 |
Page 32 |
Page 33 |
Page 34 |
Page 35 |
Page 36 |
Page 37 |
Page 38 |
Page 39 |
Page 40 |
Page 41 |
Page 42 |
Page 43 |
Page 44 |
Page 45 |
Page 46 |
Page 47 |
Page 48 |
Page 49 |
Page 50 |
Page 51 |
Page 52 |
Page 53 |
Page 54 |
Page 55 |
Page 56 |
Page 57 |
Page 58 |
Page 59 |
Page 60 |
Page 61 |
Page 62 |
Page 63 |
Page 64 |
Page 65 |
Page 66 |
Page 67 |
Page 68
