when the hard frosts come

in the day a walk upon the common and some photos.

 shadows and tall trees

ok so another holiday plan has manifested (now to get on with it). 

half terms

it might be too soon. people might still be knackered/ busy etc. horsemouth won't know until he checks. 

where are we? one hundred years of faust. 

(also in black and white (and sepia tinge) lest we forget).

this the best photo of the bunch (horsemouth feels)

a misty morning (for sure) and possibly a frosty one (if not actually frosty it is certainly near). a lot of the remaining growing depends on delaying the frosts. last night horsemouth had some of the runner bean beans (and good they were too).  the weather forecast says the frosts will hold off for the next two weeks at least. 

when the hard frosts come and the nasturtiums die back horsemouth will dig out the bed where they are and dump the soil elsewhere (so that the nasturtiums will be successful elsewhere). at the moment their riotous growth mocks his vegetable growing efforts (only the runner beans vaguely compete). 

he will uproot the giant overgrown spinach plants also. 

there are still a few potatoes and some parsnips in there. horsemouth will lift these. the sprouts and the cabbage he will wait to see how these do. 

how does horsemouth write?

he doesn't have a desk. he writes propped up in bed with the laptop in his lap. (he was just reading a piece on writers' desks, the view out of their window, their hours of work, lunch etc.). he writes a bit (or a lot) and then goes unconsciously and farts about on the internet. 

this afternoon/ evening the version of le bateau ivre (first two verses) comes back from rob (it sounds good), horsemouth is trying to work out a title for it - boat trip (gone wrong), downriver - something like that. it sounds cheerful even. 

today (this morning) the electricians are coming. horsemouth has woken up the chickens. he figures he can get them into one shed while the electricians work on the other (to reduce the amount of chicken underfoot). there is no chicken problem with the garage. 

today the anniversary of john fahey live in hobart tasmania in 1980. it's an exemplary gig by the old curmudgeon.