Saturday 19 November 2011

Where is thy sting?

I’m sorry, there’s another…..

I’ve told you before that when I run my brain bounces.

Random thoughts dislodge, drift up and jiggle around.

Today I went running, the air and sky are clear and the smell of nuts among the fallen leaves mingled with just a hint of late autumn pine.

And the thoughts started to dislodge, and Tom was with me.


I only knew Tom a short time – he came to visit in September, parked his camper van in the meadow and introduced me to Sand Wine.

We drank a bit.

It was good.

He was a professor of visual perception by trade, something I had been meaning to pull his leg about because when he left here he forgot his egg slice.

I was quite happy as it was a significantly superior version to my own, but I wanted to send him an e-mail saying something like “not very perceptive of you eh!!?”.

I’m too late now, once again that lesson get’s rammed home – don’t put off ‘till tomorrow…..

There are many ways to die, we all do it…. Yet…..

I think Tom was happy, he had a nice evening, contacted loved ones, went to bed, never saw the morn.

He softly slipped away into his own dreams.


Anne Hodgson said...

November. Nature dies in November, and so many decide to follow.

popps said...

Thank you Anne, you have shed light where, for me, there was none.

Vicki said...

You can make wine out of sand?

popps said...

Ah Vicki, poetic licence.
The wine in question comes from a small area in Provence where the plant, er the vine, grows in the sand.
I have come to call it, hic, sand wine.
Then again my dad used to make cowslip wine so maybe you can make it out of anything after all?

Vicki said...

I think I might have tasted some cowslip wine too and it was very nice indeed.
But here the wine is named after what it grows in. Perhaps that's why wine made of mushrooms hasn't taken off.

popps said...