Skip to main content

A little ray of hope

In the bleak mid-winter, when there seems to be ongoing uncertainty on every level, doesn't this sight offer a wonderfully reassuring message, that the natural world never waivers, always follows its designated path.  It just keeps on keeping on.  Catkins always remind of the nature table at school, when I was about six.  We were told that the catkins were lamb's tails, left hanging on the tree!  Rather unlikely, but we fell for it!
Yesterday morning was beautiful - at last.  Sunshine, relatively mild, no wind (bonus) and the dogs and I had a good walk, part of which was around this field.  Until about ten days before Christmas, it was a sea of Brussel sprout plants.  Looking north, across the grey Firth of Forth to Fife, it is now ploughed and waiting for its next assignment.  

Comments

  1. Lucky you to have catkins! I must keep a look out x

    ReplyDelete
  2. Lovely photos - glad you are getting out and about and signs of spring are on the way!
    Catkins were corncobs in my shopping basket when I was five! Picked from the garden! I used to pretend to have a fruit and veg stall!
    Happy days! Keep on keeping on!
    Xx

    ReplyDelete
  3. Lovely, golden catkins - a very welcome first sign of Spring. Yesterday I was out enjoying the sunshine - and the lovely songs of 2 Robins who were courting in the trees. Yay!

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Coastal walk from Gullane to North Berwick

By the time I have walked about four miles, my toes are screaming at me - it's the arthritis, you see.  One of the joys of being that little bit older than I was.  However, for a long time, I have been keen to walk along the beaches, and follow the coastal path, between Gullane and North Berwick. So, having worked out the tide times, I decided today was the day, and off we went.
Below is our starting point, the bay at Gullane.  It's a lovely beach, very popular with dog walkers. This is looking east, the direction Tilly and I were going to take.
Looking back, up the Forth, the unmistakable bulk of Arthur's Seat, and Edinburgh's skyline, just clear enough to see.
For most of the walk, there is the choice between wandering along a series of beaches, or following a path along the top of each.
There's no denying it, at heart I am a shell-seeker.  I have loads of shells at home.  We lived on one of the out islands in the Bahamas for a just over a year, a long time ago, and …

A vase on Bonfire Night Monday

I have another vase of wild flowers this week.  It wasn't my intention, but as I was out walking the dogs on Sunday afternoon I passed billowing masses of a delicate pink cruciferae (which I can't find a specific name for) growing next to a pile of logs.
Growing alongside were two or three plants of golden yellow corn sow-thistle.  It was a beautiful sight, and there was my vase!  The cruciferae, which has a flower just like rocket, also has the most fabulous seed pod.  It is positively exotic and reminds me of Aladdin's shoes, with very long pointy toes. The lovely sunny face in the photo below is a good old dandelion.  I love dandelions.  I love their rich yellow flowers and the complex and beautiful seed head.  Who hasn't blown a dandelion dock to find out what time it is?  And you can eat the leaves in a salad!



Long gone garden

Ihad about 23,000 photos on iPhoto, which, not surprisingly, has been slowing my MacBook down!  Over the past weeks, I have been having a massive cull and in the process siphoned off favourite photographs, and also I have been on a trip down memory lane.  There is one group of photos I am compelled to post here because for me they form a glorious record of my long gone and much lamented garden, at our previous house.  I have a tiny garden now, which I am enjoying, but in our last garden there was room for lots of joy.   

Regrettably, where there were tulips and fritillaries in the long grass, there is now hardstanding for cars, and I heard yesterday that my beloved lavender hedge has now been taken out, which is the final nail in the coffin of a place bees once loved to visit.  I am not sure that a static row of box balls is going to quite cut it with the pollinators.  I used to count up to one hundred bees, of various types, along the spires of lavender when it was in bloom.