Raised bed

The main thing is that I have made a start, and the back of my mind can get busy on thinking about other things that need to happen next.

Semantic fields

I have just realised that I had never blogged this particular poster that I made a while ago, although it did appear on other social media. Imagine I do it in Wellington boots. I will sort out the lack of space after what should be an en-dash soon. ©2019 Allison Wright

Geometrics

Today was mainly about patterns. As I sought to find a cheery photo for today's blog, I came across one of a stained glass window near the tourist exit of the Mezquita-Catedral de Córdoba. Its strict geometric pattern had me thinking of the Rosicrucians, and the belief held by them that certain geometric shapes are... Continue Reading →

No hybrid

This is my response to the idea that we should affix pre-designed icons to the type of work we produce. There is a choice of three: 100% human translation, 100% iffy (also known as MT or machine translation, in its various permutations), or so-called hybrid translation. If you can find the link yourself, you can... Continue Reading →

Rattling around

What occurs next is a slight timetable train smash. But that's okay, because you have handled such convergences before.

Next year

Next year, I will know that destemming all the grapes before drying them is absolutely essential. It avoids having to do what becomes a very picky job when the fruit has already dried.  It also avoids eating most of the produce. As it is, I remove a stalk, and pop the raisin in my mouth. ... Continue Reading →

Briefly overcast

Birdsong sounds my joy at this special moment when the day turns, for I have not yet uttered a sound in my solitude

Fig leaf and art

Today's walk was fun. Carob harvest is in full swing, although many trees are not being harvested, as they once were, and much of the chatter amongst the three neighbours also walking today was about the stories so far this season. Carobs are not the only things ripening (strangely this year, with lingering green (but... Continue Reading →

Rights of passage

Yet always something of the human soul is transposed as she travels through realms where few go to drink the rare ichor of true correspondence: where the soul—the very core—of one language meets another.

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