It’s Bank Holiday weekend. Not May Day weekend, as it should be; nor yet “Spring bank holiday”, as I thought it might be. It’s simply “Early May bank holiday”, an anodyne phrase with no dangerous political connotations to offend or inspire.
It poured with rain half the night and is still damp and unappealing outdoors and uninspiring indoors, so I thought I’d brighten things up with some recent photos.
Easter edition
A neighbour brings his sheep to graze
the knee-deep weeds that grow unchecked
in my orchard. He waves his walking stickand hollers at the youngest lamb, apologising
he forgot the glamour magazines his daughter
brought last time she visited from town.He tells me this week’s ‘weddings special’ features
designs from New York, Paris and Milan -
all chiffons, satins, pastel lace and froth. I betthere’s not an image in it to compete
with that lamb scrumping apple blossom.
don't confuse the narrator 
I like that poem so much. It’s deep. Yes, some simple things mean a lot than the glamorous expensive ones. There even those simple moments that remain emblemed on our memories.
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Thank you! Certainly when I saw the scene the sheep and the apple trees seemed a lot more relevant to the rural setting than the idea of glossy gossip magazines.
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