Wednesday, 29 August 2012

Musing on...

My kitchen

..is full of simply contained chaos. The turquoise, chalkily washed walls are covered in pictures they dance and jig across the space. None of them have carefully aligned hooks and clips..they all vie for attention like so many children asked for answers...hands up in the air waving to be noticed.

But that's how I like it! So many moments tumbling like shifting breezes.




The Kitchen 8th July 2012
Chalky walls, flake and blister,

enclosing the simmering heart of the home.

No formal lines of panels and cupboards

but a jumble of colour and surface.



Lacquered ash and scrubbed pine,

knobs of flamed walnut while sycamore ripples

neath the dark granite top with its little round sink.

Bright steel swan necks arch shining and polished.



Under the sill laden with plant pots

the butler’s sink on it’s painted brick piers.

A curve bellied plate rack holds lines of white platters,

from hand forged hooks dangle eggs in a basket.



The old mottled mirror, circled by photos

forms a door to the larder, dry goods stacked within.

Dogs lazily curl in their Aga side baskets

hiding the bones lying buried beneath them.



Next to the stove is an old hotel cooker

with an enamelled oven, far too generous to use

But its hob is wide with room for six saucepans,

there’s a shelf for the jars full of pasta and rice



with dark African pots all crammed with utensils.

A rope of fat purple garlic hangs by the onions

No one can tell they are hollow and empty

Too lovely to cut, to crush and to cook

They disappeared inside their pale skins

secretly.