Friday is Skyday

Another 'landscape in the sky'.

Laughing Lhursday

Exploring the village.

* [For first time visitors]:
 
Typo in the title?
Nah. It's just that I would not let a tiny T spoil an avantgardistic alliteration.

For Jams

This year's very first poppy in Seanhenge
I do dedicate ...

 

to my dear friend Jams.

Monochrome Monday

Imagine this bulb
is a heart stopping to beat.
My brother's heart did.

Chimneys

... or 'Friday is Skyday' :)

Friday is Skyday

... taking a tiny detour.

March(es) against Monsanto*

Interesting: While the US Supreme Court only recently has unanimously solidarised with the criminal bastards of Monsanto, on Saturday in several countries demonstrations are planned.

One of them in . . .
 

If there will get 'millions (on the streets) against Monsanto ... we shall see. 
Or not.  
Anyway, my deep throat intends to participate ("with my walker").

"Did you know that Bill Gates has 500, 000 shares of the company?" Claude asks.

Well, yes, I know. Mr Gates is a fine altruistic gentleman, after all.

- - -

I have a dream: One day neither the politicians nor the journalists on their payroll, nor their unscrupulous lawyers nor even their ruthless privat armies will save the masters of Monsanto. One day their utterly mighty and rich beneficiaries will have nothing to eat but their fucking certificates, their patents and stocks.
Perhaps though, if mankind is lucky, they will already have been sent to hell. After all, in God they trust.
End of the rant.
Do I feel better now?
Well, not really.
But after all, I spake out.

And here a copy of one of those documentations that now and then out of the blue would disappear, but there's no round-up against the truth, obviously.
And I am pretty optimistic, there will never be one. 





* Well, for quite a while  – about three years? –  I have not mentioned one of the most evil bunches of bastards on this planet: Monsanto & Co.

However, my stats are decreasing, and thus I think some visits from St. Louis and diverse branches of the evil might do my stats good.

Monochrome Monday

Landscape amidst clouds

The Gate is Open

Lilac Invitation

Friday is Skyday

On the road.

Fictitious Dialogue?

Spake a friendly neighbour:
"Beautiful flowers, Mr. J.. Where did you order the seed?"
Nowhere. They are a present.
"Oh, lovely. From your daughter?"
No, from nature.

Spake the friendly neighbour;
"Oh. And why don't I have these beauties in my garden?"
'cause you have such an impeccable looking lawn.

Spake the friendly neighbour:
"I just do prefer to have a cultivated garden."
Spake I:
Well, obviously the fairies just don't like people
daily trimming their lawn with nail scissors.

Spake the friendly neighbour:
"Your weeds are contaminating my ground, anyway."Spake I:

Well, and its petals are flavouring my salads.
Have a nice evening, Mrs. X

Monochrome Monday

It was 10:18 a.m.
on the last day in 2012.

Friday is Skyday

Ah, and the frogs are croaking . . .

The Don becomes 13

Even Venus, Jupiter and Lady Luna
are smiling:

Don QuiScottie becomes 13!
Well, cross sum wise.
So let's praise him
and
The Golden Helmet of Perthino.

Laughing Lhursday*

Hat on a Hot Tin Roof

 * [For first time visitors]:
 
Typo in the title?
Nah. It's just that I would not let a tiny T spoil an avantgardistic alliteration.

Bird's Eye View

Their nest is their castle
or
Shabbiness is in the eye of the beholder.

 

Monochrome Monday

They did not birch me.

Point of view

The frog sitting in the well takes its brim for the horizon.

On the road

Almost flying . . .

Translucent

A ball is no disc.

Waiting at a traffic light

Lord of the dandelions.

Planks . . .

. . . in shed's own window.

Glimpse of early rape

. . . on leaving the village . . .

Ephemerality

The cherry tree's . . .

. . . flowerage . . .

here does it end.

Rhapsody in Green

. . . while waiting for a train.

Friday is Skyday

Stairs to . . . ?

On the road

Green green trees of home.
Or so.

Mayday

There's a humming and buzzing,
a droning and whirring in and around Seanhenge*,
and a blaze of colours that would fill anyone
who has ears to hear, eyes to see and a nose to smell,
with joy and happiness.

* Thankfully, Seanhenge happens to be not situated
in . . . and . . . and . . . and . . . and . . .
oh well, you get the picture.
I am grateful.