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They’ve been in too long to label, but still wit

They’ve been in too long to label, but still with something of the George Russell spirit of invention about them.

The golden hour or smouldering hour, not much afte

The golden hour or smouldering hour, not much after 5am. Spring shifting into Summer and the skew of light over the shoulder on a slower to ignite wisteria, and the shadows somehow harder to dodge.

Mornings with a thick rime of dew somewhere around

Mornings with a thick rime of dew somewhere around the mid shin to knee mark. Running down the midrib and pooling. Raindrops on roses, dewdrops on lupins.

Yesterday, with some fluted buzz of bees rootling

Yesterday, with some fluted buzz of bees rootling through the foxgloves.

The fold and drape of June.

The fold and drape of June.

Buzzing and chirping and moving to its own rhythm.

Buzzing and chirping and moving to its own rhythm.

A frosty April and a wet May confused the daffodil

A frosty April and a wet May confused the daffodils and staggered the tulips. Giving the wisteria pause for thought, as well as the berries. The first week of June last year and fingers were already stained with strawberry juice. This year, and it’ll be more like the end of the month. ‘Seasonal’, being just that. A moveable feast on the vine reliant on the vagaries of the weather. But swollen by rain and sweetened by sunshine, and they’ll get there. Just in their own time.

Haze, and the difference between May and June. In

Haze, and the difference between May and June. In May and it was more likely to dawdle in the direction of drizzle. June, and it switches to a torch like beam.

With just enough frame for all the froth spilling

With just enough frame for all the froth spilling over itself.

The morning backlit and wearing its halo.

The morning backlit and wearing its halo.

Nora Barlow wasn’t one for frills, laciness or a

Nora Barlow wasn’t one for frills, laciness or a scallop, but the botanical possibilities of the Columbine. Her legacy, a bonnet of all those things.

Chiaroscuro light and shadow. An angle poise and h

Chiaroscuro light and shadow. An angle poise and hours of tweaking, or the weather at work in the depths of May.

Last night’s golden with a few stubborn clouds m

Last night’s golden with a few stubborn clouds making it the meteorological equivalent of the Hokey Cokey.

Damp with a fleeting blink and you miss it moment

Damp with a fleeting blink and you miss it moment of sunshine. There’s murmurings of a heatwave, but given the May that’s been ‘not raining,’ would pass muster. Butternut squash planted out in hail stones, now part of the course.

The blurry bits around the edges.

The blurry bits around the edges.

Dipping a tendrilly toe into the waters of Spring.

Dipping a tendrilly toe into the waters of Spring.

If the bluebells are the carpet of Spring, the cow

If the bluebells are the carpet of Spring, the cow parsley and wild garlic are its grouting. An expanding foam swelling in volume and filling in the gaps. The Alliums pushing up past a few tulips still writhing, and the wisteria taking its time and thinking about it. All the usual prompts, just differently spread and a little bit further this year. ( Green winged orchids with a different backdrop of last Spring).

One quarter Spring green, three quarters foam.

One quarter Spring green, three quarters foam.

The ruffled edge of a cloud gives you a warning of

The ruffled edge of a cloud gives you a warning of a few fields worth. And an icy blast when it’s just a couple of paces. And then there’s May. Unleashing everything it’s got at whim.

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