The photo above, taken late last week, shows autumn at its sunniest: all ginger and bright, the sort of day that tempts you to scuff through piles of rustling russet leaves, even if you’re wearing smart work shoes.
The tree in the next picture, with its red leaves flaming against the clear sky, reminded me of the burning bush.
Continue reading “unreliable narrators”
Sound of raindrops;
leaves
patter from the sky
A few weeks ago, I posted a picture of a cyclamen flower and pondered why I always forget the name. Today’s flower also begins with “c”, but for some reason I find it far easier to remember the word clematis.
Considering this for a few moments raises the question of how, given the range of shapes, sizes and colours the name can be applied to, I know the flower in the photo is a clematis.
Continue reading “memories beginning with “c””
I usually manage to post on this blog twice every weekend – once on Saturday and once on Sunday; the actual time at which I make the posts is quite erratic, although recently it has tended to be quite late in the day. Yesterday, though, I was out for most of the day and completely lacking in inspiration and energy by the evening.
Continue reading “unconkered”
Among the plants that evoke the summers of my childhood are buttercups, buddleia and the rosebay willow herb. I’ve posted quite a lot about the willow herb in the last couple of years, probably because I don’t remember it in Spain and now I’m back in the UK, after over two decades without it, it seems to be everywhere.
Continue reading “the origin of clouds”
don't confuse the narrator 