Wednesday was the 21st of June – the solstice and the start of summer. Which means today is the 24th – Midsummer’s Day and as good a time as any to post more photos of roses.
If a friend hadn’t pointed it out to me, I might not have realised that today is Ascension Day – the fortieth day of Easter.
For no better reason than “because I can”, I’ve decided to mark the occasion with an extra, mid-week post with a few of the many photos I took years ago when I went to the Bristol Balloon Fiesta.
Continue reading “extra, extra!”
No dabbling in the dew this morning – I’d have had to put my wellies on and am not sure how you tell dew that has risen from rain that has fallen.
No Morris dancers with their bells and wooden staves, and no dancing round the Maypole.
No Green Man and no May Queen.
Continue reading “maybe; maybe not”
According to the news, the Queen celebrated her 91st birthday yesterday by going to Newbury races.
As far as I can ascertain, there was no special monarch’s trophy awarded or race run to mark either the Queen’s birthday or her presence at the event; even so, it’s as good a reason as any for starting this post with a photo of a magnificent golden kingcup.
Continue reading “celebratory”
I read in the papers recently that Easter has now become almost as great a non-religious celebration as Christmas, with gifts and cards, crackers, candles and floral wreaths.
Personally, I won’t be celebrating in any way, except inasmuch as today being Easter Sunday has influenced the choice of photos for this blog post.
Continue reading “Easter day”
As I am too busy to write more than a few words, I thought I’d just post a photograph and this seemed the “busiest” picture I’d taken in a while.
Then I stopped to wonder what the plant was and it occurred to me that if every one of those flowers turns into a fruit of some sort, it must be one of the shrubs that is covered in tiny berries through the autumn and winter. I don’t know many shrub names, but it seems likely it’s a variety of cotoneaster.
My pronunciation of that is something akin to KO-tun-ee-aster, but having written it down, I’ve remembered my mother’s humorous referrals to the cotton-Easter plant. Which makes it almost topical.
Well, it’s Mothering Sunday and we altered the clocks last night, doing the old dear out of an hour in bed.
I’m not sure that these two dates always coincide, but my mother first drew my attention to it when Margaret Thatcher was Prime Minister, saying that she thought a woman PM could have organised things a bit better. Of course Thatcher was supposed to only need four hours’ sleep a night, so I don’t suppose it mattered much to her.
Continue reading “more mothers”