Fearful Excitement...

... continues to occupy my thoughts.

Both in life and art, my days are filled with drama.
Autumn has deposited several tons of leaves in the gardens,
front and back, and despite all the warnings about not composting leaves, I have been doing it for years...
and it works.

Just be sure to throw layers of soil onto the heap
from time to time and continue to tote pealings
from the
kitchen onto the general mess.
Come Spring, potting will be a cinch.

At the artistic front, readings on the subject of
Noir continue, mostly the works of academics who
specialised in interpreting post-WW2 pulp fiction
and films for the enthusiast.

Unreal city isn't in it...

Texts where cityscapes meet frantic lives
may be found on
Anouilh's Twitter

Studies on how urban living can erode privacy are
very engaging and make me realise that leaving the
house in Dublin these days requires a long preparation
for a rather damp Passagiata.

City living can be a bit of a
battle at the best of time and
wandering round in any old wolly jumper will
just not do, these days.

In fact, there's much more to come on this subject,
notably on how characters dress when they
don that little touch of Noir...

So Many Questions...

and so many answers...

Philosophers have their work cut out for them these days.

Montaigne, who decided rather bleakly that to philosophise is to learn how to die would be puzzled,
I think, but all the ideologies that now cluster around the subject making it heavy weather to read even the lighest contemporary tome.

Whenever I need a sense of space and air I go back to
Edmund Burke. The sublime and the beautiful are
quite enough to be getting on with...

The Nights are Drawing In

The Nights are Drawing In

Thrilled Skinny

Thrillers, Mysteries and "Noir" extravaganzas are hot news at the moment.

Fans await, breath bated, for the winners of the
Golden Daggers Awards
to be announced.

Thriller Writers and readers around the world will be on the edges of their seats, teeth gritted, knuckles whitened, waiting for the final results tonight.



Nowadays, I have to admit, displaying a lack of courage, I tend to read biographies and cookery books.
At one point I even thought I might set to myself and write a gardening book. But at the time I did not think I was old enough and then an interesting thought struck...
I would probably never be old enough...

Having sat an exam run by the RHS in London was quite enough of that. One of the questions required a written description of double-digging, with a clear illustration of how to proceed.
This is the sort of writing that might fit better into the "humourous anecdote" department.

Autumn

It is raining today, so working out of doors is not really possible. We are entertained daily by the changing Autumn leaves that are exceptionally fine this year.

Last week we went to Rowallane Gardens
and experienced one of the most beautiful landscapes I have seen in quite some time. The run from Dublin is along a dramatic motorway and we came across country, skirting by the Mourne Mountains on the way back.


The air in Rowallane is unusually clear, scented by the fine trees, mostly conifers and rhododendrons, that seem to exude a subtle fragrance from their bark, as well as from the leaves.



The arboretum extends into the neighbouring farmland and the beautiful pond in the Pleasure Grounds reminds the visitor of how sensitive people in the past were to nature. The water is surrounded by blue hydrangeas, reminding us that the soil is acid and that the collection of plants reflect this. The reflection in the still waters of the pool was remarkable, making the trees larger than life and with an intense darkness, like a dream.

It's a Mystery

I continue to be exercised on the subject of reading...

Who reads what... and why...

Having discovered Gerard Brennan's Blog recently, I have taken to recommending the writers there to friends looking for thrillers and crime mysteries.

But I have to admit that I have little inclination to pursue the topic much further. I remember all the adrenelin soaked novels I read as a teenager with the distant gaze of one who now finds enough drama in everyday life.

This needs to be scrutinised further.

Shall sleep on it...