In the UK, we have had the most glorious sunshine for much of the last week, although some days have been quite blustery. It’s been the sort of weather that calls to you through the window to get out and blow the cobwebs away.
Although I don’t have a garden, I’m fortunate enough to have a park just across the road. It’s a small, semi-wild park, without much in the way of attractions: no café, no boating lake, no rides for children, no exercise circuits etc. It’s a short cut for me to get to the station or to the doctor’s, and the picturesque route to the supermarket. In fact, I find plenty of excuses to go there, and it’s not usually very busy.
Continue reading “flowers and leaves”
If it weren’t for social media, I would probably have blithely continued to not update this blog. But today my Twitter feed is full of hastags trying to distract us from global concerns and help us focus on other, more enlightening and uplifting, matters and I have been nudged into action.
Without the reminder from Twitter, I would probably have forgotten that it was #WorldPoetryDay. After all, in the UK, we get a lot more excited about National Poetry Day, which happens some time in early October. But I haven’t written any new poems for ages, so why should that make me want to post here after months of silence?
Indeed, it probably wouldn’t have been sufficient if I hadn’t also seen another hashtag and realised that it is also #WorldPuppetryDay. That seems to me to be a day worth celebrating.
Continue reading “on poetry and puppetry”
The problem with taking pictures of plants is that they tend to be the same ones every year. Especially as we are creatures of habit and we take the same routes to and from the same places on a regular basis.
But even though I see these yellow fields from the train window in spring and early summer every year, as I travel from Gloucester towards south Wales, they never cease to impress. So here they are again.
At least I suppose the light reflections and the stains on the train windows are probably different each year.
It’s April, but we don’t seem to be enjoying Chaucer’s “shoures soote” – the sweet showers that bring forth spring flowers. Yes, the parks and gardens are bright with blossoms and blooms aplenty, but the weather is as changeable as it has ever been.
I haven’t actually seen snow here this month, but there’s been hail and temperatures below zero, as well as heavy rain, brilliant sunshine, strong winds and days of constant grey sky and mizzle.
Continue reading “snakes and lions”
March has been an odd month and although I did just remember to mention St David’s Day and the start of spring here on the blog, I was a bit late with both of them.
Today, of course, is Mother’s Day, and to tell the truth, I’ve been late with that, too. Sadly, even the fact that the clocks changed last night and we lost an hour hardly provides me with an excuse for failing to get a card posted to arrive in time at my mother’s house.
Continue reading “the same but different”
I find it impossible to see the signs of spring and not to want to take photographs and write poetry.
But springtime has been written about so often by poets that it’s become almost a cliché in its own right. Anyway, whether it’s due to global warming, geographical location or faulty memory, the seasons just don’t seem to be as clear cut as they used to be.
Continue reading “spring is sprung”
February was mild and Nature got a bit ahead of herself.
The English countryside is now bright with blossom: in the trees, in the hedgerows and underfoot; walking across the park you have to take care not to tread on violets, primroses and celandines.
Continue reading “spring snowfall”