Part of the great magic at Findhorn was our sharings. There was a great wealth of characters at Findhorn: walk ins like myself who found themselves at this spiritual out outpost out along the outer edge of the cosmic universe. In many ways living and working here in this tiny house village was like living in a Marx Bros movie, there were so many English and Scottish eccentrics it was like Faulty Towers. Sharings took on this delightful spoof of ourselves and I remember Kale being a main staple of one sharing where Isha and Vadan and I think Iraina dressed up as Kale and carrots for their monologue. It was fun, it was delightful and it was magic.

This year I grew some winter Kale and it reminded me my of the fun we all had.

WINTER KALE
Oh winter kale how I love thee
let us count the ways

As I rush to my frozen window to grasp a glimpse of your raw naked beauty shimmering in the diamond crystals of this cold and lonely moon of winter

Shamelessly Your raised beds beckon me and I am smitten like a slave and a schoolboy
Mesmerized by your cold purple lips and the allure of your ice cold glare

The Cabbage patch cares little for you
at this ungodly hour .
The chard is asleep;
And the frozen lettuce is by all accounts a tasteless dullard;
A frigid hussy and a gossiping tramp; with no visible means of support; sitting lifeless and pale at the edge of her bed…

My window fogs for your desire .
Like a petulant lover I anxiously rub my glass with my ravelled sleeve only to watch its frozen crystals swirl and dance about your dark and forbidden body

Like a fish monger below my window you call aloud for me
“Hey lover boy”
“I see you Romeo spying upon my nakedness from your towering window.
What are you some kind of voyeur my lord?
or just another troubadour gigolo, playing your harp with your baudy poems and racy stories of love.

“Awaken Lover boy
Come; this is our magic hour;
….come and I’ll sing to you on this moon bright night uproot me upon my bed and adore me“

Up end me and let thy coarse stone mason fingers work their magic into my limbs as you spread my dark verdant leaves for thy pleasure.
Simmer me in a creole broth for your pleasure; then furrow my root like there is no tomorrow;
Yes my prince unmasking all my secrets in our sweet cries of culinary passion…

I’m yours for the taking Romeo….the way Paris took Helen and Jupiter Aphrodite; Unsex me and sprinkle my simmering purple loins with crumbled bacon and thin shavings of Parmesan
For you and I are old Romans; culinary chefs to the Caesars; cooks and bakers to the Amazons and the Daughters of Isis.
We exist as Star dust on the lips of Virgil and Ovid;
We know a thing or two about food and love making and what pleases the old gods.
Minerva and Bacchus; Pan and Venus;
This is our night dear one don’t disappoint
“Come come and upend me upon my bed
Awaken thy seed
Let that naughty mouth taste upon my dark veined bitterness with thy loving tongue and I shall dominate you like a hell cat mistress that I am until the mountain snows melt at the full moon of the spring equinox and flood thy garden with its fresh life giving Delta water as your new green shoots spring to life.

From my upper window I call down upon you
Oh winter Kale I’m thinking soup aren’t you?
Sauteed Kale with garlic and onion
Then add it to the creole broth of Tuscan white bean and those fire roasted tomatoes; adding crumbled bacon, parsley as it simmers to a violence.
Served with toasted crusts of sour dough with a karafe or two of cote du rhone (cellar temperature ) Preferably by a crackling fire; as we sing your praise and sing to your beauty …..

“Oh winter Kale, How I love thee on such a winters day……”

Michael Davidson