If your head is buried deeply between your own buttocks, you can’t look up and see the sunshine. This I know to be true.
I wanted to eat of the fruit of all the trees in the garden of the world… And so, indeed, I went out, and so I lived. My only mistake was that I confined myself so exclusively to the trees of what seemed to me the sun-lit side of the garden, and shunned the other side for its shadow and its gloom. From Oscar Wilde’s letter to his long-time paramour, Lord Alfred Douglas; ‘De Profundis’ (circa 1897).
I’m re-reading this letter and – not for the first time – I am a little irritated by Mister Wilde’s self importance, his very pomposity: “I want you and others who stand by me and have affection for me to know exactly in what mood and manner I face the world …’ Bah! There’s no getting away from it; although a literary genius, he was – in Max Beerbohm’s words ‘the spectator of his own tragedy …’ Too much time for introspection, methinks, and not enough dirtying-of-hands.
My pumpkin plants are blooming and the sight of the budding gourds and flowers banish any thoughts of shadow and gloom. I’ve been searching stores for ages and find that these little jewels are either scarce or frightfully expensive, so I am quite thrilled with my garden’s largesse.
I plucked some and stuffed them with garlicky mashed potato, tossed them in egg and then breadcrumbs and they made a delicious starter, with sweet chilli dipping sauce.
Today is rainy, so good for the garden. Not even the clouds can dampen my good mood. Have a super week, my friends.