.< "angelope", most respectfully, but couldn't resist a temporary blend of names which aptly fuse both the divine anthropos and the graceful theriomorph. which stood in for using the prefix "dear", (deer).~ but what prompted this post script was... i zoomed in, with some aerial dexterity on "103 station road", noting it's current environs. the house is directly opposite (north-side) of "waterloo crescent". two numbers (uphill) from "the vineries". the photo of which, exactly as it looked when the "i" was "born".
the front garden, now concrete, no longer the lawn i mowed from infancy, with central rose-tree + bird's-nest. to the back garden. the elongated strip my
dad hated till he suddenly became a fanatical and productive organic
gardener. as a wee tot, i'd walk the length of the path, climb the fence, and
very long ago now, be up to my head in a field of wheat, later grass. to the
other side, under the two whelming huge ash trees, (i called," the
twins"), now gone. to the railway line where steam trains regularly passed,
both ways. slowing into the station. the 5 o'clock "tea-time train."what most struck my eagles-eye, was that, in the exact centre of the back lawn, there showed still, after 70 years, a small bare patch where the concrete-cast bird-feeder water bowl once stood.
having, as a mischievous sun-blonded imp, many times disassembled it. much to my dad's understandable irritation. in fact, one very dry hot summer, long ago when the roads melted and the parched lawn cracked into hard jig-saw segments. i took an urge to prise each segment up, stacking them neatly in a pile.
for obvious reasons i don't quite recall my dad's anger in full. but i seem to recall replacing each one as best i could. perhaps that's why i was encouraged to evolve to jig-saw puzzles, which he sold from the front room hairdressing "saloon" at christmas-time. along with cigarettes, and soaps, and shampoos, and, what was that sign i was asked to paint "in your artistic lettering,
....... "cofrettes and sets". unusually perhaps... i've never once been to a barber in my whole life. i could always do it perfectly well myself.
but i love hair. the more the better. never understood why people pay somebody to take it away. not as if you paid to be given some.
dear dad, wherever you may be, in spirit realms, i do deeply understand what
the garden meant to you. i share that same love and dedication.i thank you for your attempts to encourage me in what we love. and for setting such a brave example when no-ne had ever encouraged or acknowledged what you managed to do. i never told you, but i do now. not one bit of it was wasted. quite the reverse. you said i wasn't methodical. well the reverse is true, now and forever.
i hope this incense smoke reaches you, somehow.
thank you. your son, martin.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
artwork :
a temple of gaia, martin law, march 2010
sacred sunrise, martin law, august 2010
kisses the wolf, martin law, january 2009
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