Last Sunday was Mother’s Day here in England. My twin daughters live at different ends of the country, and because of their, and my, schedules we were, to my dismay, destined not to meet up for the day. They were though, dutiful enough to send sweet and thoughtful mother’s day cards, and to my surprise and delight, also both sent the most wonderful bouquets. I wish I could harness the scent, which fills our living room, to share with you, but in the absence of smellyblog here are a few studies I took of the flowers.
As the year rolls by
nature’s bold palette mellows
to soft autumn hues
We are lucky that, close to where we live, there is a forest where they produce trees for Christmas. Traditionally, my husband would take our daughters up to the forest to choose a Christmas tree for us, while I stayed at home and raided the garden for sprigs of holly and tendrils of ivy to decorate the house with. They would usually be gone an hour or two, spending plenty of time finding the ‘right’ tree – not too tall, not too small, good shape, with no awkward sticky out branches, and bushy right to the top, it also had to be one of the type that doesn’t drop needles all over the house, so they were pretty picky, but they’d always come home with a perfect specimen wedged in the car. They’d demand hot chocolate to warm themselves up before we set about covering said specimen in so many baubles and lights that you could barely see it anyway. We always, always, had Christmas music playing and would sing along in loud discordance with tinsel around our necks and baubles hanging from our ears.
The girls can’t get home to choose the tree these days, so me and my husband trek to the forest together. We went last Friday, and for some reason, just saw a tree and thought it would be ok (it is) in less than five minutes. We came home and decorated it in wistful silence. It looks pretty, but I wonder if I’ll ever stop missing the old days?
I am a paper flower
with no colour or scent to distinguish me
Alone in the wilderness
fragile layers of tissue petals wither
Desiccated they crumble
exposing my core
where sweetness should dwell
but merely a twist of thorns remains
Found this little chap on my Clematis just now. He proved a perfect, uncomplaining model for this challenge! I’m not sure exactly what type of bug he is, he could be a green shield bug* but doesn’t seem quite so ‘shield’ shaped as others I’ve found in the garden in the past. Perhaps he’s just a rugged individualist! Anyhoo, I think he’s a cutie pie and could he look any more like a bit of leaf if he tried?
* this has reminded me – my mum used to collect green shield stamps from the grocers when i was a kid. If you spent a gazillion pounds and collected about 200 hundred bookfuls of them you could exchange them for a toaster or something. Happy days! 🙂