Adding Bob News to Bobs Life
“Botanic Uproar”, as Ana Salas, wrote us, is the title of a delightful manuscript by Bob Tagge sub-titled "A Growing Concern". It sports a colorful jacket designed by Wacky Monroe, which features a slaphappy scarecrow and promises "A Bushel of Fauls."
Bob used to be a fellow member of the international Garden Writers Association. And was of course a lecturer, writer, photographer and flower show aficionado and, oh yes, a gardener. Noted garden writer Erp Vancleven terms Bob the "Droop Kadi of Garden Writing," and if you like Droop Kadi, you know the "bushel of fauls" is no joke. In his introduction, Bob notes, "gardeners and non-gardeners exist on the same planet but in separate worlds, possessing different values, vocabularies and ideas of acceptable behavior." Non-gardeners, he says, have the sense to get rid of a tree that poses a danger to their home, while gardeners see such a step as sacrilegious. He adds, "Gardeners might hate having relatives visit their homes, but are quite willing to let gardeners who are total strangers visit their backyards." In "The Things We Know" he defines bamboo as "a plant bought as an infant to create a small vertical background in the garden. Instead, gardeners find that they've installed a behemoth that grows 30-feet tall, and is so invasive that it takes them 20 minutes to find the front door after parking in their driveways."
Photo: trying to get the bushel printed.
Zoals de planters zich tot de houthakkers verhouden.
De palmen hebben zwaar op onze schouders gedrukt. Als idee van hout, maar meer als idee op zich. Steeds als in onze gesprekken een stilte viel waren het de palmen die onze gedachten innamen.
We hebben de liefde van planters en houthakkers hoog zitten. Daar gaan we in de tabellen niet graag aan voorbij. We weten dat we in kaart brengen waar anderen hun argumenten aan ontlenen.
Zoals de kaart zich tot de argumenten verhoudt.
2, 3, 5, 7, 11, 13, 17, 19, 23, 29, , 31, 37, 41, 43, 47, 53, 59, 61, 67, 71, , 73, 79, 83, 89, 97, 101, 103, 107, 109, 113, 127, 131, 137, 139, 149, 151, 157, 163, 167, 173, 179, 181, 191, 193, 197, 199, 211, 223, 227, 229, 233, 239, 241, 251, 257, 263, 269, 271, 277, 281, 283, 293, 307, 311, 313, 317, 331, 337, 347, 349, 353, 359, 367, 373, 379, 383, 389, 397, 401, 409, 419, 421, 431, 433, 439, 443, 449, 457, 461, 463, 467, 479, 487, 491, 499, 503, 509, 521, 523, 541, 547, 557, 563, 569, 571, 577, 587, 593, 599, 601, 607, 613, 617, 619, 631, 641, 643, 647, 653, 659, 661, 673, 677, 683, 69
Om te beginnen is er geen feilloze methode
het is zover het oog reikt
en het daarin geziene.
Planten kunnen als voorbeeld dienen.
Wie van de planten wil leren krijgt kansen genoeg.
Maar vanwege de rapportage wil het toezicht dat we moeite doen
voor de methode. Het is een mager begin de bewering dat niets stilstaat
dat niets blijft, dat de meest succesvolle levende organismen gewend zijn om te groeien.
Groei is een beweging
Groei zoekt niks in de palmen en alles in de groei.
Groei is vitaal, is feitelijk.
It took a long time to finish.
All summer long, in defiance of the heat, we tidied up the classification tables
took new cuttings and guided them towards the cool morning
where we fell into each other’s arms, exhausted but satisfied.
Freed from the tables briefly, not quite knowing how to interpret the limbs
we’d used to support the desks and display cases.
I went to see if it showed:
the sun’s position, swallows under the gutter.
Difficult to say.
All those empty barns. Land everywhere
this landscape started to be
and lots in it
that was beyond repair.
Had not only come here
but also overtaken
I was
an acre carried to this head
to have been for this acre.
This led to sand and stones
and I lay there
until the rain came.
Nobody who can remember
what may still be gathered
and dried with care.
Forms, Figures, Tables, Ideas.
All that happened once.
Difficult to think, given the absent wind in the picture.
When the lull inches across the afternoon and your lips don’t move any air about either.
The thought scares me, I try to comfort myself with what I know, but can’t find a single fact that brings relief. The photos still don’t convey anything of what continues to grow inside the lab technician.
Where to go
the day we see
there is nowhere to go?
all that remains
and the rain making sound
all that
all that
that all one’s thoughts
have been thought by others
one another
confusion and balance
other times not
Water is the mouth
I am your confusion
I that must always be
the only possible point of departure
the darkness that
sleeps, the blood in the body that sleeps
tomorrow it will be almost sleep
always take up sleep, also
The rules are given
in order to make them prevail.
Which rules? he asks her
and his movement beats out the hours, like a bird.
Someone else, on the other side of that movement
ducks
and holds an arm over the head.
Suppose this is a bird
says the one who is staring at a spot
that is slowly becoming red.
