Sunday, May 8, 2011

Where I Find You Revisited

I am not having a good time...enough said. I am doing this one a second time close to the last time. This poem is of course in its fundamental meaning a hymn.











Ulex Europaeus, Ulex Galli, Ulex Minor

"I am the blaze on every hill”

by Fiona Ware 2003

After the bleakness of winter, furze clothes the hillsides and heaths with a welcome blanket of headily scented yellow flowers. It is one of the first flowering plants of the Spring, with most bushes in full bloom by April. With the newly awakened bees busy among the flowers it fills the senses with the promise of honey and other good things to come

Furze, also known as gorse or whin, is a perennial evergreen shrub belonging to the pea family. It forms a much branched, stunted shrub usually no taller than six feet high. The leaves are very small and in older plants they form into long needle-like thorns. It is found in rough pastures, heaths and rocky places, preferring a dry soil. The word furze is derived from the Anglo-Saxon name fyrs, and gorse from the Anglo Saxon gorst, which means ‘a waste’ this being a reference to the open moorlands where it is often found.

The plant’s thorns, and its dense habit, makes furze an excellent hedging plant. It can also be used as a barrier to protect young tree seedlings in coppices and as cover for game birds. Chopped up branches were placed in vegetable beds to keep mice and birds off newly planted crops. Pliny, who first named the plant Ulex, stated that the branches were placed in streams to collect gold dust from the water. When dried and burned, the gold could be collected as tiny nuggets from the ash.

The thorny nature of the plant means that it is often viewed as having protective powers. In Wales it was said to guard against witches.

Looks kind of like what we call Scot's Broom

Where I Find You

In unexpected
pathways through furzy gardens
and forgotten fields
looking at fine points
to find wild secret beauty,
find heart illumined
beyond and between,
in that sweep you hold this world,
formed, perfectly placed.

November 28, 2009 7:08 AM

4 comments:

  1. Christopher
    Finding beauty here is always easy to do
    Linda

    ReplyDelete
  2. Hope you feel better in the morning. I'll call. and I like this one.

    ReplyDelete
  3. I'm sorry you're not having a good time, your poem and words here might make up for it, in part at least. I hope so.

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  4. i am greatly without words these times too. funny how that is, isn't it? and somehow we retreat into the shells of our body or the denseness of our lives to find solace, but it is exactly on the hills, in the wandering, where we find what it is we need, love. you gave me a great deal yesterday, christopher. i return it to you today. do we have vases enough for all of these flowers? surely not. and so let's go to the hills instead.

    i wish i was there to help you through. we could all sit together on the porch facing the future, firmly seated in the now.

    much love
    erin
    xo

    ReplyDelete

The chicken crossed the road. That's poultry in motion.


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