Sad Garden. aka En un berenjenal*. Questing for Bumba knows what, she’s wandered into the saddest, spikiest garden in the ‘hood. Nothing but fretworks and tall grasses, and only two small miasmas for company. The spiny weeds already have started infiltrating her savage breast. I have dispatched the tiny Savant Onions to offer some help and guidance or, failing that, some superlatively silly jokes to cheer her up and counteract the oppressive effect of the thorny weeds. We wish her the best of luck. Who knows, perhaps the small miasmas are friendly, too, and willing to guide her out of that wilderness she’s got herself into. Avanti popolo!
Spanish lesson for the weekend.
*Meterse en un berenjenal, Sp. Colloquial. To get one self into a pickle. To bite more that one can chew.
The quotation in the pic is from an old Soleá de la Serneta, sung by La Niña de los Peines. In the same song she also sang:
Fui piedra y perdi mi centro
y me arrojaron al mar
y a fuerza de mucho tiempo
mi centro vine a encontrar.
There. Have two links to that masterpiece of cante viejo:
Por mucho pan nunca mal año, as we always say in my neck of the woods (or spiny gardens, regardless).
Have a sponditious weekend.