In an introduction to his poem Life of Sundays, which you can read or listen to here on the poetry archive, Rodney Jones writes:
"I think I could recognise Sundays from any other day if I came back from the planet Mars."
I feel the same way. Sundays can be oppressive. This week I chose to surrender to the atmosphere of the day. I baked. I wandered. I was aimless.
Freshly-baked Onion and Poppy Seed Bread.
I am quite pleased with how this turned out. I made some top class cheese sandwiches with this loaf and used the rest to mop up beetroot soup.
Wild mushrooms on a windy day
I took a walk along the Marriott's way and spotted lots of mushrooms on the verges of the path which was once a railway line. I want to learn how to forage for wild mushrooms. Teach me?
View of the city from New Mills
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