I think perhaps some regular readers will know that I love bright flowers. I’m sure I’ve said that salmon pink geraniums and sunflowers are among my favourites.
So you can imagine my feelings when I realised that all the plants I bought this spring were white.
Continue reading “white flowers”
They say that language shapes our view of the world: if we use sexist and bigoted language, it is difficult to avoid becoming sexist bigots and if we don’t have the words for a concept, we find it hard to understand.
Certainly my own experience of learning a second language revealed a different personality: I was free to say things I could never have said in my native English because the words and the grammar permitted it and because I came fresh to the new language with the opinions and ideas of an adult but with no personal attachment or aversion to the words.
Continue reading “the words we use”
For some reason, I’ve been thinking about fairy tales.
I’ve already mentioned that the tree lupin buds made me think of alien claws, but I’m pretty sure the plant is terrestrial, so perhaps it’s more like the talon of a mythical bird.
Lupins weren’t the only flowers I found in my mother’s garden last week that transported me into the world of the imagination.
Continue reading “fantastical flora & fauna”
Recent posts seem to have been quite text heavy – somewhere around six or seven hundred words each for the last six posts. So perhaps it’s time to fall back on photos again, especially given the season and the fact we’ve had some decent weather and I’ve had a fair number of opportunities to take pictures.
Despite the fact that, as I write this, the church bells seem to be playing “deck the halls”, with the May trees in bloom and daisies – including these fluffy ornamental ones – growing thick and fast, I think summer must be very close.
Continue reading “more flowers, fewer words”
In the walled garden by the church, early crocuses are in flower.
[…] Under the trees
a crocus campfire kindles.
Yes, the half-closed flowers remind me of flames. But they also remind me of praying hands, though when they open more fully, it’s more as if the petals were spread wide to receive whatever alms or largess the prayers have prompted.
Continue reading “poetry and prayer”
don't confuse the narrator 