the path through the meadow

We have not been to the meadow
since the last days of winter.

On a warm summer evening
we walk on familiar paths
and discover that the buttercups
still turn their face to the sun
even when we are not there to see it.

as MrM says
'Life must go on...'

A Hay Meadow in June

I can remember my mother stopping the car one day.

"Some people have never seen a hay meadow
on a perfect June afternoon of sunshine.

Let's stay for a while"

And so we leaned on the gate,
watching the tractor

and breathing the sweet fragrance
of clover and buttercup.

"Don't ever take it for granted" she said.

The Unbearable Cuteness of Being

This tiny little rabbit
was motionless among the clover leaves.

It could have lain soft in the palm of my hand.

While I wondered what on earth to do
with a tiny little rabbit

It suddenly sprang up and ran away,
white scut flipping over the grass tufts.

Flowers in a Landscape

I want you to see what I see:

Buttercups bright against tall hedgerows,

wide banks of Flag Iris among the reeds,

a hay meadow of startling beauty.

Here, among the tall grass and Dandelions

are the plump flowers of Bird's-foot Trefoil

and by your feet, silvery Cinquefoil.

And, if you allow yourself to be still,
your head slowly fills with birdsong.

White, Ivory, White

Shall we return to the water meadows,
you and I?

Swathed in shatterlings of creamy light
we will linger on the felted pasture
Under the sweet May boughs.

Soft and woody, the sound of the cuckoo
which chimes our secret footsteps.

And here, beyond glinting eyebright,
At the rippling edges of jewelled water,

We will share that hidden world
With the watchful deer.

For blackbird
who gives so much and asks so little in return;
whose friendship has been a great gift in the past year.

Blackthorn

shards of black,

soft white frilling,

miniature blossom,

small curls and puffs,

slivers of light from the shattering buds

new beginnings,

Spring set free.

Coming Up For Air

No more cooking...

I feel as though I have been inside for days.

I need some fresh air.

Moss

Moss is the only thing to photograph now.

Can I create an inspiring post with pictures of moss?

It is not photogenic.

It only looks good next to something else.

I think that I had better abandon this post now.

Not everything is worth blogging about.

after rain

everything glitters

and shines

and sparkles

and shimmers

wild jewels hidden in winter hedgerows

Barbed Wire

form

function

shape

shadow

creation of space

Shades of Brown

November walks on woodland paths.

A time for quiet

and pleasure in the last bright leaves.

amber, sepia, ochre, siena,

mahogany, russet, copper

Who knew that there were so many exotic words for brown?

A New Day

Sunrise

Mist

Frost

Time Passes

There was a time when I knew the names of fungi

I attended lectures given by H.J. Hudson

and read the classic textbook

Ingold CT & Hudson HJ (1993) The Biology of Fungi.

Chapman & Hall, London.

I knew about gills and spores and mycorrhiza.

Now I have forgotten the detail

but I can still take pleasure

in the shapes, fragility and delicate colours.

It is - as MissM suggested - an example of transience.