The setting: March 14, 2020
The gates of our village, out the Northern Road, have been hung with two dark lanterns of dubious welcome for quite some time. Today, March 14th, I've taken them down, albeit with some regret. The Eastern one had burst, and spilled into the roadside ditch. Below it, stretched into the stream for ten or twenty meters, a forlorn series of extinguished predecessors, difficult to see, and even more difficult to retrieve. The total count of bags today, some shattered by the weather and water, and the plucking and tearing of thorns and debris, was eighteen. There are bound to be more, either hidden or unseen - probably into the twenties. None, from this distance, will have made it to the feeder stream for the river into which the roadside ditch empties, which is good news for waders and creatures, probably: although the poop itself and its microbes, broken down and freed by the recent floods and every day flow, will have made their way into the system.
Meanwhile, Bert Dreyfuss gave lecture 24 on Heidegger.
A quick tour: Find the poop-bags:
The sad East-side lantern
Down into the draining ditch: Quite a haul to fetch them out. But seeing them - there are at least three in this photograph - is the real challenge
A close-up, a tad farther along
Entangled in the natural organic mire, but strangely separated by different patterns of light, and something in the quality of the darkness itself.
There are at least two
How many here? In Shakespeare country, a witches stew to entice into view the black mirror'd hearts of Lord and Lady Macbeth
The surprise (How far has this 7up travelled?)
The treat: beauty in a roadside drainage ditch, water running clear (best in full-screen mode, I think)
With apologies for the shake. Almost an hour in, it was the muscles in my hands. The video doesn't capture the beauty of the snail shells, or the water, really. This is the same ditch, but farther along, as the black bag pictures above. Gentle wading, anyone?