They dined on mince, and slices of quince,
Which they ate with a runcible spoon.
And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand.
They danced by the light of the moon, the moon, the moon,
They danced by the light of the moon.
The Owl and the Pussycat
Edward Lear
1812-1888
Which they ate with a runcible spoon.
And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand.
They danced by the light of the moon, the moon, the moon,
They danced by the light of the moon.
The Owl and the Pussycat
Edward Lear
1812-1888
I quite fancy a dance by the light of the moon, the moon, the moon... Of course, that would require that sky was free of the clouds, the clouds, the clouds...
I love this tatty little garden. It's not mine but I'd like it to be. It's only a little space but I love the rickety fence, I love the creeper ('specially when the leaves are this amazing colour) and I love the quince tree.
I think I'd string up some fairy lights or set out little candle lanterns and sit out there, wrapped in a blanket, and drink spiced chai or honey wine until the moon came out... And then I might dance. Around the quince tree.
Quince trees aren't a regular sight in northern Europe. At least not in my experience. This tree seems very appropriate for the Victorian house that this garden is attached to and quince is one of those somehow old-fashioned fruits that I don't often encounter but love the flavour of. It transforms from something inedibly tart when raw into something yummily sweet when cooked. And from yellow to pink. I don't know why that it is but it's one of those slightly magical things that heat can achieve...
Perhaps I'd add some baked quince pudding (with cream) to my autumnal moondance picnic...
Isn't it lovely where a (very discreet) peek over a fence can take one's thoughts?
I must do a little more (very discreet) peeking.
I think I'd string up some fairy lights or set out little candle lanterns and sit out there, wrapped in a blanket, and drink spiced chai or honey wine until the moon came out... And then I might dance. Around the quince tree.
Quince trees aren't a regular sight in northern Europe. At least not in my experience. This tree seems very appropriate for the Victorian house that this garden is attached to and quince is one of those somehow old-fashioned fruits that I don't often encounter but love the flavour of. It transforms from something inedibly tart when raw into something yummily sweet when cooked. And from yellow to pink. I don't know why that it is but it's one of those slightly magical things that heat can achieve...
Perhaps I'd add some baked quince pudding (with cream) to my autumnal moondance picnic...
Isn't it lovely where a (very discreet) peek over a fence can take one's thoughts?
I must do a little more (very discreet) peeking.
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9 comments:
oh, I love this. I can't wait for cooler weather to arrive to do just what you suggested.
when I was a little girl, this was my favorite poem (along with 'anyone lived in a pretty how town'). I forever thought they went to sea in a beautiful pea green COAT. when my husband gave me a pea green coat as a gift, I knew he was the man for me.
That's a beautiful garden corner, it looks quite magical, I expect a bunch of fairy people to pop out any minute! Maybe even a witch or two:)
What gorgeous colors. It's nice having a secret garden of one's own to think and dream about.
fairy lights...yes! and I will take some of that pudding too.
curious girl - thanks for swinging by - no doubt looking very stylish in your pea green coat! ;) I also loved this poem as a child and still do. So whimsical, isn't it?
bronwyn - It does look like a place they're likely to appear so I'll keep my eye open for fairies and/or witches and let you know!
stephanie - the colours are incredible aren't they? It definitely has that secret garden feel about it. I pass by almost every day and I've never seen anyone in it, which makes me feel even more like I might sneak in and enjoy it by moonlight...
mrs. french - fairy lights really do work so well in gardens don't they? And pudding works any time and anywhere for me - glad you agree on the combo! :)
That is a lovely picture! Just shows you what a discreet peek or two can do ... (Here I will have to climb electrified fences and/or high vibracrete walls, haha. Actually, one of my favourite pastimes - I blush to admit - used to be to go for walks at dusk and peek through lighted windows. Just discreetly. It always gave me a happy kind of feeling to know that elsewhere there were people living their lives. Weird hey?)
Ooh anairam, I do this too! Weird perhaps but if so, I'm right there in the weirdness with you. I once lived looking down on an apartment block where the majority seemed not to be aware that they were overlooked (or didn't care) and in the evenings when they were lit up from inside, I loved catching glimpses of people going about their lives - cooking, feeding their families, spending time with friends, reading, watching TV. Even running naked from the bedroom to the lounge & back once. There were 8 apartments and the inhabitants were all so different. I didn't go out of my way to stare across at them, but I did come to recognise them and I found it comforting to know they were there and liked to imagine details about their lives outside the teeny bits I got to witness. When I write it out like this, it is a bit weird, I guess!
beautiful photograph!
Thank you nadia! And thank you for popping in...
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