Thinking that this area would be heavily gourded by now I went to check it out. Instead, what do I see? No green leaves, stem or tendrils clinging on the wire but dry leaves; browned, shrunk and shrivelled by an unforgiving, relentless sun...you could almost sense the crackle of leaves---as dry as loofahs that's never been used!
Severed from The Main Stem it will only be a matter of time before any signs of a vine ever being here will remain... From now on it looks like the vine is going to be within the confines of a certain space. Better sense has prevailed, after all.
Glory be to God for dappled things- For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow; For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim; Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches' wings; Landscape plotted and pieced--fold, fallow, and plough; And all trades, their gear and tackle and trim. All things counter, original, spare, strange; Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?) With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim; He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change: Praise him. Gerard Manley Hopkins
The first flowering shrub I planted on our land
Every flower is a soul blooming in Nature.-Gerard De Nerval
Shall I not have intelligence with the earth? Am I not partly leaves and vegetable mould myself? -Henry David Thoreau