Potfest

I was reminded by G on our curry night the other evening that it was Potfest time so after sorting through some photos and posting to Callum’s mum I decided I needed a change scene and thought I’d check out potfest for a possible wedding present. It was a bit damp but not too bad. I can’t say anything inspired me (or was affordable ... they pay £500 for their stalls for the weekend so need to sell well to break even) but I bumped into two colleagues from work and had a chat. One of them came out with the rather splendid gaff of asking if I’d come with my husband and lost him. All impeccably and darkly comedically timed with the morning’s activities.

The extra instantly reminded me of an old blip of Grace’s ...
https://www.blipfoto.com/entry/2103219649427541817

After a wander around the gardens and grounds I was starting to feel my inner bolshevik rising so I headed off for some free fresh air and had a walk on Barton in search of cranberries and was delighted to end the day by spotting one and then once I had got my eye in I saw lots (extra).

Kintsugi - Patrick Lane

The raccoon washes with slender fingers a broken moon.
A frog hangs from its life, one leg pinned by a tooth.
Fog forms dew on my face and I weep without intent.
Over the waters the crippled cedars hang in the remains of storms.
Their branches reach now for the sea.
Like the raccoon, I’m distracted by the task at hand.
As now, the scars without my body greater than the scars within.
Bones shine through my skin.
Tonight I cradled my woman as she slept into the night. Such peace.
I am outside myself, without disguise.
There is only a little left to know. Water returns to water.
The dew in my eyes, a moment ago an ocean.
On the face of a golden puddle the moon repairs itself again and yet, again.

Kintsugi — “golden repair,“ the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by mixing lacquer with powdered gold. The repair of a broken bowl is only one its many possible beauties.