Travelling in the UK, I seem to be in headless chicken mode, with no time to sit and think or write, and yet achieving very little. Yesterday, though, I took a walk , as it was a glorious, slightly blustery, English summer afternoon.
I’ve commented before on the monkey puzzle in my mother’s village, but I’d never seen it with cones before:
Looking around the web to find out a little more about them led me to Emsworth Wildlife Diary. There is a paragraph there (March 15th) about monkey puzzles, together with a couple of links to pictures of the female cones (which I think is what is in the photo above) and male flowers.
The walk forced me to take time and look at a few things other than the computer screen (hence the post title, which is doubly pertinent as I’m only about 15 miles from where W H Davies was born.)
If the rain stays away, I’ll return to the estuary later this afternoon and hope to find some inspiration for some writing. For the moment, the closest I’ve got to a poem is this:
Beyond the tide’s reach,
dot the field; not mole hills,
not cow pats, not drift wood: