R's rue

Sublime moments happen rarely  Last night in the wee small hours at work, it was nice to have a brief break outside and take in the air as it breezes in from the  Irish Sea. In the hospice garden,  you can’t see the sea but you can taste and smell it and that feels cold and wonderful after a few hours clinical work especially when listening to this version of This My Song to Finlandia, a song we sing in choir Listening to Sibelius in the dark. And feeling a bit ….well….weird  from Going Gently https://ift.tt/hvq5r1U

Nothing says springtime more than golden daffodils. Up by the privet hedge in our back garden (American: yard) we once planted several daffodil bulbs. Years later this is the show we have come to expect in late March . They have burst forth, trumpeting the turning of seasons. Though winter may still have a few cold blasts up its sleeve, the worst of it is gone and ahead we can almost sniff the sweet warm aromas of summertime. The history of daffodils is very long. Some say that the occupying Romans first brought them to The British Isles almost two thousand years ago but evidence for this is flimsy. Others speak of "wild" daffodils as if they are native flowers Our little patch of daffodils stirred from sleep as January passed the baton to February - sending up probing green fingers to test the air. They were far too early so had to bide their time till mid-March.  Of course, William  Wordsworth wrote a famous poem called "Daffodils" in 1804 and I blogged a...

 The winds Whips me around To the delicious  Scent that A garden delivers The tomatoes shake The basil shimmers In a bright sunshine As Spring Reinforces her arrival from R's rue https://ift.tt/ZL5eR68