overlooked

daisy
They forecast sunshine for today, so I was slightly surprised to wake in the night and hear rain prickling against the window. Later, when I got up it was absolutely pouring down.

It cleared up, though, and by the time I was ready to go out it was bright and sunny, and well worth taking my camera along.

I walked into the shops through the village and across the country park and found plenty of opportunities for photographs: daffodils and dandelions, yellow jasmine and coral-pink japonica, elegant magnolias and early bluebells. There were forsythia hedges and forget-me-nots, splashes of celandines along the verges and pools of primroses in the castle moat.

I hope that some of the pictures I took were successful. Sadly, though, I am at my mother’s house and when I packed my bag to travel yesterday, I forgot to put in the cable to connect the camera to the computer. I won’t get to see those pictures properly until I get home again, and I clearly can’t use them on the blog this weekend.

I didn’t realise this until late in the afternoon, when I first started thinking about writing a blog post. It was too late to do much at that stage so I popped into the back garden with my phone and took the photo at the start of this post.

Years ago I dallied with writing a poem about the many flowers in my mother’s garden: scarlet pimpernels and speedwells, bindweed, buttercups and daisies, trefoil and clover, oxalis, willow herb, mallow and yarrow… all of which are really quite pretty, but classified by most gardeners as weeds.

I am of course doing my mother an injustice, as I don’t think there were ever all of these growing in the garden at one time: most of them would have been encouraged only in certain areas and on the understanding that they would be attractive to butterflies, bees and other insects.

The photo is also an injustice, as there were other flowers I could have taken pictures of, of which my mother would no doubt be more proud.

But there is always something pleasing about the simple, clean lines of the daisy, (deceptively simple, as it’s a composite bloom with two entirely different types of flower) so that’s what I’m settling for today.

Author: don't confuse the narrator

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

2 thoughts on “overlooked”

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