Joys of Winter

I nearly bought some
Pale orange tulips today
For my forlorn and empty jug
Nah, I though
Far too expensive
Wait for home

A couple of flea bitten rubekias
Some cuttings of sunset liquid amber
Mottled old blood hydrangea leaves, fragile heads barely hanging on
Rose hip or two - what a year it's been for those

Now all stuffed into a
Very happy jug.

Good to have you back, ga.

I really enjoy reading this thread; it's an absolute gem and showcases some wonderful talent. Flowers for the wordsmiths.

The cream hollyhock is still flowering and the sparrows are still kicking up a storm in the Japonica bush - when will winter arrive?

bagitha - What a lovely walk to school. Sounds as if DD has inherited your sense of humour!
I got a real sense of your place with your words.

supernana - that was quite delightful.

super!!!!! you have expressed my feelings too! Thank you!

Bagitha Lovely!

Today is a day of greys
Not dreary greys, mind.
The islands stand proud - an iron grey
Against the misty grey of ocean and sky
Rocks and pebbles on the beach
A silvery veined grey.
The wet bark of ancient trees
A pewter grey with softest taupe-like lichen.
The feral cat sits upon his fleece
That too is grey -
And warm
And comforting.
My love of this place
Is warm and comforting too
But it is not grey -
It is radiant sunshine yellow.

It rained overnight and the rising sun
Shone through the droplets
On grass and leaf —
What leaves are left.
Walking to school we saw
Four curlews hunting
Within a few metres of each other
And a heron "getting its butt wet"
As DD said!
Oyster-catchers squibbled and squabbled
As they always do
With the herring gulls and common gulls
Who try to pinch their grub.
Quietly a redshank bobbed its special bob
And the eider ducks conversed in "O-ooo!"

Butternut...beautiful x

This is such a calming thread. I come here to enjoy your verse then tiptoe away so as not to spoil the beauty of what you've written

A day full of yellows

Brilliant lichen on a rust red gate
Sharp rape flowering in a field
At this time of year?
Weak sun fighting
Grey misty sky
Ribboned with beams
Horsetails of dirty cream
The day's working hard to arrive.

Wet speckled leaves
Clumped on lanes of
Pale calcare
Sploshing over sparkling puddles
Through avenues holding onto
Their late glory.

Thank you for the flowers, Supernana - that was very kind.

Your loch sounds to have had a calm day, bagitha.

Looking across the loch at half-past two
The sun has already sunk below the hill crest
Behind me
Leaving an orange stripe
Along the top of the hill ridge
Where it still lights on dead bracken
Above dark shadows, hill shadows,
And the shining loch
Which is reflecting the blue sky
For a little longer.

Butternut and Bagitha for your moving accounts.

Yes, we two stood side by side
With those who felt the need
To share the sorrow and the pride
A child read her gentle personal tribute
A young man played a lament on the pipes
A proud old man stood ram-rod straight and gave a trembling salute
'We will remember them...'
The words whisked away on a playful wind that
Failed to pluck the memories from each and every heart.

/

_______

You'd have been most welcome.

How beautiful, b'nut! Makes me wish I had been there too!

But I was moved instead by the haunting play
Of The Last Post
Played by a lass on her trumpet
For every soul at the cenotaph
And beyond,
While the cormorants sat on their rocks,
The waves washed over the pebbles,
And the wind blew our hair
And our poppies.

'Waves' to you all....

A Winter's day, at the shore
Sandwiches and thermos at the ready
Brilliant sunshine turned the sea silver.
We set sail a bunch of rosemary
In memory of a dear friend
Lost to the waves -
A gentle Atlantic coast today.

Trusty rug spread, ankles crossed
Sunglasses against the glare
We watched sandpipers playing dare
with the tide
and a dog, bonkers with joy in the sea.

Home with our treasures
Two empty Anemone shells
Delicate ridges radiating
In greys and greens
with tiny white dots
For all the world looking like
miniature Aborigine paintings.

Gally We have also enjoyed a perfect autumn day. Hardly a ripple on the sea. Sky is a pale yellowy orange. Thinking about six o'clock and a nice glass of

Just pushed the pram along to the harbour. Beautiful sunset and the sea is calm as a mill pond after a glorious sunny day - so different from yesterday which was wild, windy and wet. We are so lucky to live in such a place. Now for a and a

bagitha Autumn is my favourite season. Today the sky is cloudless. The colours of warm spruce, teal-green firs and ginger bracken make the perfect back-drop to the silvery rocks. Magical!

Heh! Heh! Clever she-cat indeed!

I have been continuing my hedging:

On the perfume thread are lots of scents –
Exotic smells with fancy names –
But the perfume I love best
Is fresh air.
Add to that wet earth, leaf mould and compost
Well rotted
And the smell of shredded holly and ivy stalks.
I've been shredding those today
After trimming back what we presume to call
A hedge but is really a wildlife path
That we share with some small neighbours.

Annobel Methinks Rory has been led up the garden path and into the woods in order to give Tabs the opportunity to back-track. She has just emerged from under the hydrangea bush, and is happily polishing off Rory's lunch. Clever girl!