An English Tweed Walking Hat, Bucket Style...

05 December 2017 12:00 AM

A young man returned, came back to be tutored ... I saw him in a room where the light that came through the one window was muted. He had hair down to his chin, and was wearing a tweed plaid hat, the floppy hat that was pulled down past the ears, almost that's not quite it, but that's what it looks like. He wore that hat, had the longish hair, had a white shirt with long sleeves, almost billowy, and a dark unbuttoned vest jacket, and wore pants that were large - let's call them clown pants. Anyway, he was leaning over a large cauldron, and was stirring the liquid/brew. It was bubbling. Considering the hair length, and the loose clothes, this could have been a male and or female, but I was sure this person was male. The tutor came into the room, to assist this young man and they were moving about, talking about what was the next ingredient, what needed to added, and/or done, and I don't know who said the following - "You need to return you can't avoid being with 'people.'" The next thing said, was - "Who are you, and what did you do with ______?" In other words ME. I knew this wasn't ME. HA!

I just looked it up - the style of that hat was bugging me, i.e., I've seen it all the time, but I can't name it - as far as I can determine it is a tweed English walking hat, bucket style!

 (what interests me about seeing that hat, is that I, personally, think of British HISTORY and the peasant clientele, when I see it, then again in symbolism's realm, the sparrow and wrens are part of this working class, the foundation of the empire, the quiet ones who won't go away, for if they do, the foundation will crumble... mm.)


The water was flat like a mirror, clear, reflection of what was, the bridge was old, loop-de-loop foundation, feet, stone, built of stone, I like this sky, well the clouds are a blue gray, like a mantel, but at the ridge, the edge, the horizon, there is a rivulet of light, and my first impression was of a weightlifter, someone using their shoulders to lift up the weight, the blanket, ha, is that where the old Greek myths of strong men came from, probably, we get out stories from our observations, and what best portrait is there, except Nature's?  

They were walking in the field, hiking more like it, got those boots on that you need for that uneven ground, terrain, the grass is wet, oh let's make it dry, warmth, they dance to their maker, no this is kids goofing, old time kids, this is spirit, sheer simple mischief, they tumble to the ground, and look up at the sky, the portal, I walk

the bush has trails in it, thin twigs that for a bug is a highway, the groundhog pulled himself up into the branches, pushing the branch down to heave HO, the walkman, again a portal, equipment but no equipment, just listen...