Time Off

 Ash Tree Buds Bursting Open

Sometimes life gets in the way of blogging. I've had a few days away from the computer, and it felt good. The man - or woman ? - who said  'stop and smell the flowers' had the right idea. Not that I've done so - the only plant perfuming the air at the moment is the yellow broom; the smell hits me every time I step outside the back door. It's impossible to take a clear picture of this shimmering, golden confection, you'll have to be satisfied with a fuzzy one. Better still, go out and find a bush yourselves. You can't miss them, they're the ones that are alive with the sound of bumble bees.

Genista (yellow broom)

There are jewels to be found in the garden. If you get down to their level, tulips bathed in clear April sun become light, delicate, almost diaphanous gems. A lot of  plants are still very tentative around here, April is only the beginning of spring, but bulbs are happy to bloom full steam ahead; their life span is too short for ladylike reticence.

Gardener and I have been hard at it. It's now or never if we want to control overabundant new growth of wanted and unwanted inhabitants. Warmer days and a few very welcome showers have stimulated friend and foe alike to stir and stretch and test the air.

"Hey, Mrs. W., come and have a look. Is that a plant you want?" Gardener has learned to be a little more careful lately.  He also invented a few new words. He decided that the lawn, which is mainly moss now and has very little grass - most un-English - would be a pain to 'scattify'. "Besides", he said, "at least moss is always green and doesn't need cutting all the time." He is right. I don't mind at all that I don't have an English lawn.

I also found time to go down to the river and watch the randy drakes belabour the long-suffering dilly-ducks. Three of them went after one poor bedraggled female at the same time, quacking and blustering and puffing themselves up, all of them trying to climb on and stay on long enough to make sure that any offspring would carry their DNA. The poor dillies disappeared under the weight, squashed flat and highly indignant when they finally emerged again, making for the safety of the flowing river at speed.

This drake kept a beady eye in all directions, he wasn't going to let any rivals steal a march on him.

It's April and there are showers. Badly needed showers. I took the time to follow the clouds, from the brightest blue skies to dark storm clouds, turned sulphur yellow by piercing shafts of sun.

Figures in chiaroscuro against the late afternoon sky.

It was nice to take time off from the computer, I might do it again.



PS: For those of you who have mentioned the yellow broom which is colonising your landscapes:
that's not broom, it must be gorse, a different shrub; wild and prolifically self-seeding, it could be a pest. Yellow broom (genista) is a garden plant without prickles and well-behaved.