The Solstice Vote In June, the Northern hemisphere lies around in gardens, crust of rotting gold. Beetroot, garlic and watermelon are sovereign for blood pressure, it’s said, though after April melon tastes like floodwater in my latitudes. Little of khaki blows out from under Chinese elm or ash or pistachio or maple: pin-oak keeps its brown leathers till spring. The British are having a referendum this solstice to stay half in Europe or half out— Late, late. Better they’d stayed out in 1914. Splintered washboards of cold are nailed across our sky. Perfect…
Subscribe to get access to all online articles
Already a member?
Sign in to read this article