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mhuzzellI haven't written much here lately. My life has been as busy as the insects and the swelling buds; we are entering the yellow phase of spring.
The snowdrops are over, as are the purple crocuses, and are replaced by loud, triumphant daffodils, clusters of daisies and ardent dandelions. Also broom is blooming, at the convergence of our neighbour's fence and ours, under the rowan which had been so red all winter, and now is greeny-yellow-tipped itself.
I think I have about a million and one things to do, every single day. But the days are getting longer, incrementally; and the sun is not so firmly in the south; and the houseplants do not press their leaves quite so desperately against the glass.
The snowdrops are over, as are the purple crocuses, and are replaced by loud, triumphant daffodils, clusters of daisies and ardent dandelions. Also broom is blooming, at the convergence of our neighbour's fence and ours, under the rowan which had been so red all winter, and now is greeny-yellow-tipped itself.
I think I have about a million and one things to do, every single day. But the days are getting longer, incrementally; and the sun is not so firmly in the south; and the houseplants do not press their leaves quite so desperately against the glass.
