Ivy Lake

Ivy Lake could be a character from an Agatha Christie book - perhaps a housemaid who foolishly keeps what she has seen to herself, tries blackmail, and becomes the next victim - but in this context it is where we went for our bird walk today.  Lots of wildfowl - and swans were a'dabbling, tails up, which I don't think I have ever seen before.  If anyone passing by had been wondering how to re-choreograph Swan Lake it might have given them some strange ideas.

I have done some studying and made us lunch and dinner, emailed Bea and spoken to Maggie to let her know I have her magazines and will bring them with me tomorrow.  I feel a bit depressed now.  I don't know why.  Anyway, I have an evening with Captain B ahead of me - and was thinking again today how nice it is to have weekdays together as for most of our marriage we both worked.  And tomorrow I have a morning with my dear sister Maggie, so I ought to cheer up.

There is blossom along the roadsides now - once again I am surprised at how early Spring comes down here as compared to my Northern hometown.

Baby nettles are surging up everywhere, and the grass is starred with daisies.  No dandelions as yet, but they will arrive.  Perhaps its all this Spring that's depressing me, given that i am now rather old?   That is a sad thought, and a cue for a flower poem - or more correctly, a verse - with no angst in it:

OH DANDELION SEED

by me 

 Oh Dandelion Seed!   Oh Dandelion Seed!

 What a heedless seed you are indeed

 Crashing on carpet without a care

 How do you think you can grow in there?

  

Oh Dandelion Seed!   Oh Dandelion Seed!

 I’ll take you outside, I will indeed

 I’ll place you in topsoil never fear

 But who’ll be weeding you up next year?

Isn't a dandelion seed a miracle of artistry and engineering?  And isn't that comforting and reassuring, speaking as it does of its Grand Creator, Jehovah of armies.