maybe; maybe not

No dabbling in the dew this morning – I’d have had to put my wellies on and am not sure how you tell dew that has risen from rain that has fallen.

No Morris dancers with their bells and wooden staves, and no dancing round the Maypole.

No Green Man and no May Queen.
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come closer

At first sight, some things are all curvy, soft and dreamy, the sort of soft focus look used for attractive women on the early episodes of Star Trek.

But as you get closer you realise that’s not quite the whole story: you begin to see straight lines, edges and sharper outlines, and it all seems a bit scratchier – more like horse hair than angora.
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Easter day

I read in the papers recently that Easter has now become almost as great a non-religious celebration as Christmas, with gifts and cards, crackers, candles and floral wreaths.

Personally, I won’t be celebrating in any way, except inasmuch as today being Easter Sunday has influenced the choice of photos for this blog post.
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the first cuckoo

Well, not actually a cuckoo as such, but a cuckoo flower.

March went out like a lamb and it’s been gloriously warm recently – so much so that I am afraid we have already had our summer – so I had begun to wonder what had happened to the April I know and love who provides us with such constantly changing weather that we are never short of a topic of conversation.
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yellow

The word yellow has been wandering through my mind in search of something to connect with.

It could connect with bulldozer. It could connect with huge chunky slablike somethings that hang in the air in much the same way that bricks don’t. It could connect with the small, leech-like Babel fish.

It could connect with the eyes of a huge eagle with circles tattooed on its wings, or with Kate Schechter’s battered Citroën 2CV.

It could, of course, just connect to fields like the one in the photo, and the rapeseed flowers that are spreading across the English countryside at this time of year: a veritable Suffusion of Yellow.