flower photography – Page 15 – don't confuse the narrator

summery

Well, I managed to miss the solstice sunrise, but it does look quite summery outside the window.

There again, my idea of what summer looks like has been changed by years of living in Spain.

Forgetting for a moment about the rain and the cold that is more often the reality, I think of British summer as pale and hazy, delicate and frilled, in pastel shades of strawberries and cream.

It’s honeysuckle, gypsophila and sweet peas; strappy sandals, pretty print frocks and matching cardigans.

In Spain, though, summer is brash and solid and in-your-face.
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tempus fugit

I had an email from Google recently reminding me that they had offered me an AdWords voucher. This sentence caught my eye:

Nos complace comunicarle que hemos ampliado la promoción hasta el 27 junio 2013, lo que significa que aún puede canjear esta oferta y empezar a anunciarse justo a tiempo para la época navideña y el nuevo año.

Translated, that’s:

We are pleased to be able to tell you that we have extended the promotion until 27 June, 2013, which means that you are still in time to take advantage of this offer and start to advertise just in time for the Christmas season and the New Year.

Is that how time works in the information age? Maybe I should install a calendar app and stop relying on dandelion clocks.

grammatically modified gardening

I was awake earlier than usual today so decided to get straight on with some gardening then send some emails before getting washed and dressed.

Still bleary-eyed when I sat down at the computer, I misplaced my modifiers.

I fear, therefore, that at least one poor soul has been greeted this morning with a message telling them that “I’ve been dead-heading the roses in my pyjamas.”

I’m not going to post a photo of me in my pyjamas, but I hope these pictures help to clarify that the roses are in the garden, not in my nightwear.
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surprised by scarlet

Perhaps size matters. Scale certainly does.

Without further information, is one of the flowers shown really any more spectacular than the other?
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When I walked across the neighbour’s field the other day, it was almost waist-deep in spring flowers: poppies, wild lupins, hawkweed, oxeye daisies, little purple vetches… The brightest of all were these golden blooms which were glorious from a distance, but not so nice up close as nearly every one harboured some kind of bug-eyed monster.

(Incidentally, I’m beginning to think I should change the blog tag-line to “Mostly first person poetry, prose, pedantry and plant pictures.”)