I was wondering why I seem to find so little to post about recently. After all, there’s no less news than there used to be. If anything, there’s probably more than ever. Perhaps that’s the problem: there is just too much information around for me to process it effectively and I think I feel less informed than ever.
Which may explain why I have fallen back on posting photographs.
Even there, though, I’m not feeling very inspired: it’s the height of summer and there are flowers everywhere to take pictures of, but when there are so many it’s hard to find any that stand out as particularly worth noticing.
I did see some lovely thistles the other day as I walked back from the station through the park, but it was very breezy and photos were impossible. When I went back a day or two later, they didn’t seem quite so special.
And then I remembered the giant cardo flowers I used to see in Spain and the local ones paled in comparison.
Of course one plant I can rely on to brighten this time of year is the rosebay willow herb, whose bright spires are now swishing and swaying in glorious swathes of purple around the park.
In town, the cars parked under the corporation lime trees are all sticky with the sap excreted by aphids, which has made me look up and realise the trees are in bloom. For some reason they don’t seem to have the scent of the Spanish lindens and the flowers look brown and withered almost before I’ve had a chance to notice them.
So here’s a photo of a flower from the tilo we had in the garden, which I’ve described elsewhere as having a perfume “so strong it was almost deafening”
I’ve been looking back through my poems for pieces featuring trees for a local festival next month. I haven’t found a great deal – so may have to write something new! – but this tiny fragment attempted to capture the Spanish linden in mid June:
Through the long hours
of the longest days,
the linden hums
with honeyed promises.
don't confuse the narrator 