seasonal

cowslip flowers close up
British Summer Time starts today, which meant I got up early – by the clock, at least. I still haven’t adapted to living in the UK again, so I headed off to the 24-hour supermarket in the naïve expectation that it would be open. Of course it wasn’t.

Today is Easter Sunday and big stores are closed.

I should, perhaps, have been prepared for this, as it wasn’t open on Christmas Day, either. I’ve been working for myself for so long that I forget that other people have jobs with set hours, and families they would like to spend time with.

I’m glad I went, though, as it was briefly sunny and there were cowslips along by the path – a protected area barely 20 metres back from a main road – and I always like to see wild flowers, even when I suspect they have been planted intentionally.

The photo is of some I saw at this time last year, looking rather more healthy than this morning’s blooms.

The flowers seemed a very appropriate follow-up to yesterday’s post about cow pats and sheep droppings, as well as being an excuse to quote a joke which dates from my childhood – or, perhaps more probably, from when my parents were children:

Q. Why did the bullrush?
A. Because he saw the cowslip.

No one ever asks why the cow slipped, but I always suspected it might have something to do with fresh cow pats.
 

Author: don't confuse the narrator

Exploring the boundary between writer and narrator through first person poetry, prose and opinion

2 thoughts on “seasonal”

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