Pickled fallen onions

When I was about five I saw cocktail pickled onions in a jar for the first time. I remember asking my mother why they were so white.

Frames and onions

Frames of reference, frames of mind, reframing, change your mindset, change your mind, mind how you change. Reframe your philosophy if you are a philosopher. Aren't we all philosophers? I don't know. What I do know is that the above image featuring a frame of sorts that reflected my frame of mind when I made... Continue Reading →

Little fallen onions

I find something appealing about marbles. The irrational but ever-present child in me wants them.

Peering at onions

One of the reasons I get up every morning, as opposed to curling up in a ball and wishing I could disappear permanently into oblivion, is to walk around the garden and looking at the vegetables growing, and enthusiastically give any of the abundant snails flying lessons, normally into the next door plot, where there... Continue Reading →

Fallen onions

Watering the spot of the fallen seeds has been an exercise in boredom.

Onion sequel

As a hedge against the possible failure of the perfect seedling tray, I decided to plant a very short row of seeds in another bed.

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