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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floral personality

I never used to like tulips. The colours were pretty enough in the park flowerbeds of my childhood, but the neat rows of tight scarlet blooms perched atop rigidly straight stalks reminded me too closely of redcoat soldiers. I was never much of one for the military or for regimented discipline and precision.

Then, some years ago, I read a poem that made me look at tulips afresh and see that they express more personality and attitude than many cut flowers.
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up and down

At this time of year, there are flowers everywhere.

Whether you look up…

white tumbling rose

Or whether you look down…

purple flowers

Despite the apparent difference in light conditions, those two photos are actually of exactly the same corner. Now I’m wondering whether the two plants will eventually meet in the middle.

May Day

Of course it’s not May Day at all: it’s just May Day bank holiday in the UK.

May Day itself should have been last week, but passed unnoticed and uncelebrated.

The hawthorn trees and bushes have been in flower for several weeks, so it’s tempting to think that “may is out” and that it’s time to don summer clothing. But given the almost icy temperatures we’ve had overnight again recently, I think we would be unwise to pack away our winter woollies quite yet.
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the crimson petal

I keep looking at the photos I took of hellebore flowers the other day and the only thought that comes to mind is about Byron swimming the Hellespont. Surely there should be some connection?

But, no. It seems that the Hellespont is the sea of Helle, who fell off a flying golden ram into the sea when trying to escape death with her twin brother Phrixus. Hellebore, on the other hand, although also derived from the Greek, combines ‘to injure’ and ‘food’.
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mostly grey

Yesterday was a grey day with little to recommend it and little in the way of colour or words worth repeating.

Here, then, are some bright fuchsia blooms to start today; perhaps there will be equally bright thoughts and words later.

fuchsia

summer blues

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.
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