dance of death

Despite the supermarket’s conservative estimate of a mere five-day lifetime, the same bunch of tulips has kept me entertained now for a full two weeks.

Last weekend I wrote about how they are more expressive than some cut flowers, struggling to escape captivity in the vase and writhing in torment as they die.

It was a mixed bunch, of which the variegated flowers seemed to be the least repressed, stretching wide open, then folding back on themselves, scattering the sooty powder from their stamens and eventually shedding their petals.
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mildly musical

Yesterday the sunshine was silver over the River Severn; today it was rather more rose and gold. It’s Sunday and it’s been a very quiet day, but the sunset had me thinking of music.

Certainly those cables across the sky remind me of a musical score – presumably ruled out ready for the music of the spheres; they’re just missing the birds sitting on them to mark the notes.
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