Category Archives: garden

‘Seed Guardian’ at Silver Birch Press

I’m very pleased to point out that my poem Seed Guardian is now up at Silver Birch Press.

The poem is about my husband, who not only sells Cheese but is also a Seed Guardian for the National Heritage Seed Library, helping to save rare vegetable varieties for the future.

Seed Guardian by Kim Whysall-Hammond (HOW TO HEAL THE EARTH Series) | Silver Birch Press (wordpress.com)

Two poems up at the Bind Collective

Yay!! I have two poems up on the excellent Bind Collective site:

https://bindcollective.org/2021/11/24/soil/

Compostable Love is all about the abundant life and wonder in a compost heap, while Meditation tells you about sowing seeds , that ‘promise to the near future‘.

Many thanks to Ella & Flo for publishing my poems!

Seed Guardian

I joke that he is now a bean counter
as, indeed, he kneels to count his beans
small white capsules of DNA
strung up on life giving proteins

He needs to send a minimum of two hundred
to a seed bank upcountry, for these beans are rare
a variety that may die out soon if not cherished
grown, saved, stored

A variety that may feed us when times are hard
but only if we keep it, saving for a rainy day

Copyright © 2021 Kim Whysall-Hammond

For Tony, who is a Seed Guardian for the UK Heritage Seed Library. The crops we rely on for food need to be diverse so that diseases cannot totally wipe out our food supplies , but agrobusiness concentrates on only a few varieties.

For Earthweal

Friday Poem: The Mower Against Gardens

Luxurious man, to bring his vice in use,
Did after him the world seduce,
And from the fields the flowers and plants allure,
Where nature was most plain and pure.
He first enclosed within the garden’s square
A dead and standing pool of air,
And a more luscious earth for them did knead,
Which stupefied them while it fed.
The pink grew then as double as his mind:
The nutriment did change the kind.
With strange perfumes he did the roses taint,
And flowers themselves were taught to paint.
The tulip, white, did for complexion seek,
And learned to interline its cheek;
Its onion root they then so high did hold,
That one was for a meadow sold.
Another world was searched, through oceans new,
To find the marvel of Peru.
And yet these rarities might be allowed,
To man, that sovereign thing, and proud,
Had he not dealt between the bark and tree,
Forbidden mixtures there to see.
No plant now knew the stock from which it came;
He grafts upon the wild the tame,
That the uncertain and adulterate fruit
Might put the palate in dispute.
His green seraglio has its eunuchs too,
Lest any tyrant him outdo,
And in the cherry he does nature vex,
To procreate without a sex.
‘Tis all enforced—the fountain and the grot—
While the sweet fields do lie forgot,
Where willing nature does to all dispense
A wild and fragrant innocence,
And fauns and fairies do the meadows till
More by their presence than their skill.
Their statues, polished by some ancient hand,
May to adorn the gardens stand,
But how so’er the figures do excel,
The gods themselves with us do dwell.

by Andrew Marvell – 1621-1678

This will be the last Friday poem for a while — it’s becoming a chore choosing them…..

Dandelions

A great poem from Sarah Russell. Here, in an English winter, the Dandelions are still strutting their stuff across my back lawn.

Sarah Russell Poetry

“A weed is a flower growing in the wrong place.”
                            George Washington Carver

Spike-haired, brass-blonde,
they invade the bluegrass suburbs
where blades form a passive sameness
if tended as intended.  They strut
across the green of everyday —
strumpets in tattered leafy skirts,
stiletto roots — bestowing downy favors
on the summer breeze.

– Sarah Russell
First published in Your Daily Poem
Photo Source

View original post