Spring has sprung, the grass is rizz.
I wonder where the birdies is.
Some say the birds is on the wing
But that's absurd.
The wings is on the bird.
It's remarkable how the most unromantic things can connect with the most wonderous and romantic. I have just put the bins out for rubbish collection tomorrow, and the moon was a brilliant crescent in a black sky full of stars. I thought of the lines in Alfred Noyes' poem "The Highwayman".
The wind was a torrent of darkness tossed among gusty trees
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas.
No wonder I needed to escape from the city to find 5 million star accommodation. Without the light pollution, the Magellan clouds are clear, the silver light is beautiful and it inspires passions that make getting older seem unlikely. Spring has sprung and the blood in my veins is running amok.
|Miss Dixie checks out the daffs and wall flowers.|
|Plum blossom and lavender. Last year the possums eat all the buds so we had no plums. This year they have more choice so home made plum jam will be back in the larder.|
Thanks to everyone who left wonderful comments and to my followers, both new and established. Welcome to everyone with an interest in the world of art and ideas, particularly as found in this weekly event called What's On My Workdesk Wednesday. If you would like to understand more about this desk hopping, follow the link to Julia Dunnit's Stamping Ground.
Bliss-ings to all,