Having dealt more swiftly than usual, with the Monday morning emails, I found my brain parked in neutral, and my body a bit too cool.
The phone rang and as it was a local number I thought it could be one of my new medical people, but it was a recorded voice telling me that my name had come up in a criminal investigation and that I should therefore dial “1” to be connected…
…Right! Glancing at the bright sunlight outside, I decided to go in search of inspiration and warmer temperatures.
What I got was blown sideways in a chill wind and demotivated by a cursory look around the garden that I have no hope of keeping under control.
A couple of brave crocuses have barely managed to push through.
And apart from tentative hints of green where last year’s flowers left off, the only thing that is thriving are the weeds.
By the barrow load.
Technically, that includes wild pansies, but I could never do battle with something that has a face.
To me, pansies always have “faces” and they are friends.
Wild strawberries too are quite sweet, with little white flowers and my theory was that birds would eat their fruit.
So they too were granted permission to remain.
Remain? My foot.
See this delicate little thing? It has taken over my entire property.
Flower beds, lawn, up my walls.
At least it’s inoffensive.
This unlovely thing seems to be popping up all over the place as well, of late.
Eventually it may look like this
Mullein is not actually a weed and it is useful in treating breathing problems. Some might say the yellow flowers are pretty. I might agree, in fact, but they take up so much room. I don’t mind when they grow down in the field or even along the driveway, but bang slap in the middle of a flower bed is not convenient.
What I do hope to see is this, milkweed.
It too is large and the blooms, which take forever to develop are interesting, but not gorgeous.
However, this is the plant that the Monarch butterfly needs to survive.
Last year we had a glut of milkweed and I was so excited, expecting to see clouds of the little orange Monarchs.
As I recall, I was lucky to briefly catch sight of one.
But hope springs eternal.
Halfheartedly, I grabbed a bin and a small rake and scraped up a few of last Fall’s leaves, which promptly blew away in the wind, at which point I became discouraged.
It was cat lunch time, so that was a good excuse to return indoors for a cup of tea.
English people are supposed, always, to be revived by tea which is produced in all known emergencies.
The tea I drink is even the proper thing, hearty, not like the tea dust they put in tea bags destined for the States.
But for me it doesn’t always have quite the restorative power it is reputed to and today my tea-bag broke which didn’t contribute a lot.
However, I remembered that I have a few pictures to share, of our latest returnee, the magnificent Flicker:
The Flicker is a very cool bird.