Hydrangea by Alison Day
© Alison Day
Showing posts with label bloom. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bloom. Show all posts
Thursday, 3 September 2015
Water Bloom
Thursday, 6 August 2015
Monday, 11 May 2015
Blooming Interlude
As lovely as having a garden can be, they involve a great deal of work to keep them looking effortlessly beautiful.
Yesterday, sporting pink gardening gloves, I freed a small patch of its carpet of weeds. A weed which initially looked pretty, with shiny green, watercress-shaped leaves and tiny, fluorescent yellow flowers, but ended up with the whole garden in its grip.
After that, the next step was rejuvenation, as I removed the dead plants and filled the space with several, rather funky, red-tipped grasses called: Red Baron (Imperata cylindrca). Buster, my tom cat, helped—digging, peering into plant-ready holes and pouncing on earthworms, as they wriggled out of clods of earth.
But that wasn't the end of it, because once you start, something else will need attention. The vegetable plants and herbs that had been dominating the house for so long, were clamoring to be let out to play: courgettes and gerkins, aubergines and tomatoes, basil, coriander, cumin etc—they all received their wish—sunny spots in pots.
Today, with my coffee, I relax and admire the results of my labour, resigned to the accompanying aches and pains, from all that bending and crouching—right to my very fingertips. Although my efforts are but a scratch on the tip of an iceberg—the weeds have been warned!
Hmmm, what's that noise? I'm sure I can hear the sound of tiny, revving engines...
© Alison Day
Saturday, 21 March 2015
The Queue
At last, the first day of Spring and there's already a queue in the garden ;)
For winter's rains and ruins are over,
And all the season of snows and sins;
The days dividing lover and lover,
The light that loses, the night that wins;
And time remembered is grief forgotten,
And frosts are slain and flowers begotten,
And in green underwood and coverBlossom by blossom the spring begins.
—Algernon Charles Swinburne (1837-1909)
© Alison Day
Friday, 13 March 2015
Gold Springtime
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
—William Wordsworth
© Alison Day
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