Poppies

James and I stopped at a roadside florist in Verdun the other day to buy a bunch of poppies.
 They are such beautiful flowers, how they start tightly wrapped up in their prickly case and then before your eyes, uncrinkle to the most magnificent blooms.

Stuck inside...

Today James and I were going to spend the whole day in the garden.

We had a huge list of jobs... feed the sheep, take the blackberry cuttings down to the bonfire pile, plant some plants, weed some weeds, put firewood away.

We were expecting rain but not thunder and lightning!

So inside we went where I was able to entertain James for a while by chasing raindrops on the glass.

"Lets count the raindrops as they pour,

1 million, 2 million, 3 million four!"

"Rain, rain, rain
Rain, rain, rain
Dribble, dribble, sploosh!
Dribble, dribble, sploosh!
Grab your boots, your coat, and hat,
Jump in a puddle and go kersplat!
Stomp about and become a drowned rat,
Rain, rain, rain
Rain, rain, rain"

Hopefully tomorrow won't be quite so wet...

Spring, the Sweet Spring from Summer's Last Will and Testament by Thomas Nashe 1600

Spring, the sweet spring, is the year’s pleasant king,
Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring,
Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing:
    Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!

The palm and may make country houses gay,
Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day,
And we hear aye birds tune this merry lay:
    Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!

The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet,
Young lovers meet, old wives a-sunning sit,
In every street these tunes our ears do greet:
    Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to witta-woo!

Lines Written in Early Spring by William Wordsworth 1798

I heard a thousand blended notes, While in a grove I sate reclined, In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts Bring sad thoughts to the mind. To her fair works did Nature link The human soul that through me ran; And much it grieved my heart to think What man has made of man. Through primrose tufts, in that green bower, The periwinkle trailed its wreaths; And ’tis my faith that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes. The birds around me hopped and played, Their thoughts I cannot measure:-- But the least motion which they made It seemed a thrill of pleasure. The budding twigs spread out their fan, To catch the breezy air; And I must think, do all I can, That there was pleasure there. If this belief from heaven be sent, If such be Nature’s holy plan, Have I not reason to lament What man has made of man?

Spring has sprung!

Spring is here so James and I arranged our spring nature table this morning.

Our garden is abundant with new life right now, daffodils and bluebells all in bloom, catkins gently swaying in the breeze.

So every morning, we go and collect a few things from our garden and bring them inside to display on our table.

Miss Spring of course takes pride of place on the table. Some little fairies have come to visit. We have a bowl that we keep little treasures in, little rocks or seeds that James takes a fancy to.