In the ground and in pots, sunshiny daffodils succeeded the cool blues, whites and crisp yellows of stalwart Winter bulbs.
I ambled idly on the mound That hosted snowflakes, drops and squills,
The forecast is for the hottest day of the year so far. I’m battening down the hatches. Or the Summer equivalent.
Blurry birds… A female crest and two pairs of finches.
This room Safe Without walls
It rained the last two nights.
The world is too much.
Tapestries gracing ancestral estates Welcome mats trimming our public park gates
An eggless raspberry bellied bake Twitcher fuel – Kitchen-side of the glass
The rubble bank is exactly that: a peculiar, linear, broken brick and excavated, relocated dirt mound at the top of our garden.