Tag Archives: casting stones

Landscape of Love 99: Botanical Gardens (at Kew)


Living museum, library of seeds, fruit so exotic climbing, pods forming, orchids blooming. Rainforest fronds frolic, unfurling against a glass ceiling that concentrates our puny sunshine into tropical beams. Horticultural multicultural magnificence. Immigrants thrive here, hothoused and cossetted, whilst outside the natives wave lavender lances and mint spears in the fresh English air. Tourists buzz in and out of the flowers, seeing and believing that all can live happily together in tempered, temperature-controlled glass houses and luscious lawns, if all stones are used only for drainage, and writing in the sand, never, ever, for throwing.

© Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2016

Photo from Pixabay


168: Ruin

ruin roganjosh mf

The signs of weathering wear and tempest tear are running deeper every year, like fingernail trails in sandstone, or crow’s footprints leaving their mark on sagging skin. Here is where you make the choice: to tumble gracefully in flowing cotton, or attempt to girdle every last nuance of youth with rope and new mortar, plastering it all back together again. Now is when you decide whether to let yourself laugh or keep taut, narrowing your eyes at Father Time.

Flowers grow within and whether they are blooms or weeds depends on how you view them. I urge you, let the winds come and the rains fall, and dance in both, paying no heed to what crumbles. Do not be tight-lipped, casting stones all about you, never thinking for a moment it might be you who is falling apart.

© Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2016

Photo from morguefile.com