Crops sown so many years ago:
Across miles,
One way,
Then returned,
Echo for echo:
Stony ground,
Killing fields,
Soft impact
Confusing
Simple fuses.
Mental blocks, reparations,
Seeds wait, forgotten:
Messages gone astray,
History not getting through.
Quietly, she leaves the shop
Walks numbly past lists of names.
The bell on the spring
Rings for a long, long time.
Iron harvest still being gathered.
Adventures in the life of an English allotment
Original Nature Photojournalism
Garden Blog of the Year 2016
Welcome to my world: digging, harvesting and other stuff
for your family
The evolution of an old farmhouse, an American woman, an Englishman and their dogs.
Sharing moments of life + motherhood to encourage fellow mommas
If you could go anywhere you wanted, where would you be headed right now?
surfing my tsunami
blowing through the cobwebs of my mind
Just another WordPress.com weblog
Writing the Wrong, Right, and Ridiculous
Life after the Care Farm
The most Dangerous plant to sleep under is the water lilly
Local History for Great Wyrley and Surrounding Areas
Tales from the mouth of a wolf
introspection & reflection, poetry & prose
Posts about old Hollywood, current concerns
Gunn4
Iron harvest .. that is an image not easily forgotten, a lasting impression. Life can feel like we are harvesting something hard and lost.
Thank you for this comment.
Not sure where your inspiration comes from: for me this phrase was on TV. A report about bombs and shells from the First World War still turning up in farmer’s fields in Belgium and injuring twenty first century farmers.
The rest of the piece was developed with this as a filter, but the phrase was on TV.