Stream of Consciousness Saturday

Stream of Consciousness Saturday

In Search of Wild Garlic

Spring ends on Thursday.
Or it might be Friday.

That’s what the weatherman says.

Wintery showers.
Maybe snow.
It’s 19º and sunny today.

I’m foraging
for wild garlic
on the creek embankment.

Maybe it’s too early, although
magazines are full
of wild garlic.

Soup. Pasta. Pesto.

Avoiding stuff by the footpath,
or the road. The county sprays
weird-smelling stuff all along it.

Grandpa used to pee on their rhubarb –

he couldn’t make it
to the outside loo,
but he could make it to the rhubarb.

It didn’t suffer from it,
leaves were big as elephant ears.

He’d tie the plant upright to
the fence with rope.

The goat was tied there also,
so I suppose the goat
peed on it, too.

Two old goats peeing on it.

Nan fermented the leaves in rainwater –
as insecticide.
Quite deadly.

Nah, no wild garlic around yet.
It’s too early.

Written for Stream of Consciousness Saturday “Rope”. Photo by Martin Péchy on Unsplash ©Misky 2022 Shared with #amwriting #apoemaday on Twitter

10 responses to “Stream of Consciousness Saturday”

  1. Oh, your poor rhubarb!
    We reckon another month for bluebells, and I reckon garlic is pretty much the same. But we have plans this year to go see them – my footing is not good on uneven ground but I’m hoping that this year…


  2. Spring ends in March? Sounds short. I don’t think we counted autumn as beginning until March. The poem is grand. Grandpa and the goat and the rhubarb and garlic.. all so rotatable and quietly humourous.


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