May 19, 2012
In this hamlet, a few buildings have a sense of decrepitude and look like a set from a Zeffirelli production. Some are for sale and some look quite tantalising with masonry – schist or granite rubble – laid in a higgledy piggledy manner.
Tactile constructions that have seen many years and many comings and goings. A more recent construction with a simple rendered finish has a decorative layer of planting – delicious scent from philadelphus – and a combination that makes the kerria just about palatable (not a great favourite with me).
Parthenocissus only works on its own – vigorous and strong – glossy green all summer and then a red sheet in autumn . . . .
. . and another simple effect, something more delicate but, also tough – echeveria – tumbling through the railings on a south facing aspect . . .
. . plants defined as architectural work well on this corner within the hamlet.
And out in the vineyards, loose but well crafted layers and courses of schist retain the terraces and edges and boundaries. The vines are looking exactly as they should at this time of year – all very promising!!
The light drops at about 9.30 in the evening and the swallows inhabit these narrow streets – swooping and calling – they have the stage to themselves . . . . .
In all its raucous impudence
Life writhes, cavorts in pallid light,
With little cause or consequence;
And when, with darkling skies, the night
Casts over all its sensuous balm,
Quells hunger’s pangs and, in like wise,
Quells shame beneath its pall of calm,
“Aha, at last!” the Poet sighs.
“My mind, my bones, yearn, clamoring
For sweet repose unburdening.
Heart full of dire, funeral thought,
I will lie out; your folds will cling
About me: veils of shadow wrought,
O darkness, cool and comforting!” Charles Baudelaire The End of the Day
And down by the stream, life gets very active, but no servants, thank goodness with this new government – :
‘The frogs are busy in the ditches, and the moon slid to her setting. Some happy servant had gone out to commune with the night and to beat upon a drum’ Rudyard Kipling Kim