The approach to the house has such a good idea that I thought I would pass it on to you.
It is planted with grass and amongst the grass, for Spring, is a variety of bulbs, narcissi, tulips, daffodils, bluebells. The tulips are in a variety of colours and all the bulbs are randomly planted. To follow on there are various wild flowers amongst the grass, so that it is not cut until the wild flower seed has set and the bulbs have died down. This can make for a rather dull approach in June, but it is a small price to pay.
When we went in mid=May the bulbs were almost over but it was possible to see what the effect had been - I am sure you will agree when you look at the photographs. The lady who planted the garden calls it her Botticelli garden and anyone who has seen and fallen in love with Botticelli's painting 'Primavera' will know exactly why she gave it that name.
In our fields the Hawthorn blossom is coming out and the Crab Apple blossom is fully out. The honeysuckle is in bud and the Cow Parsley lines the road sides with its white froth. The grass is growing well and it will soon be time to begin silage cutting; some of our neighbouring farmers have already started. Our paddock is closed to all animals because the farmer likes to cut that for hay if there is a nice warm spell.
Tomorrow I will try to put on photographs of these, although the weather forecast is for heavy rain. I haven't had time today as it has been our Poetry day - eight of us and, as usual, some lovely poetry to pass a relaxed and enjoyable afternoon. Perhaps my favourite poem of the afternoon was Sylvia Plath's 'Tulips' - she really was such an inspirational poet. Later on I read Ted Hughes's poem 'A Pink Wool Knitted Dress' - the poem about his wedding day to Sylvia Plath. A doomed relationship from the start; the fact that we know this now makes the poems all the more heart-rending.
To finish today here is a short John Clare poem from his Shepherd.s Calendar. It is called June but it aptly describes the countryside here at the moment.
Now Summer is in flower and nature's hum
Is never silent round her sultry bloom,
Insects as small as dust have never done
Wi' glittering dance and reeling in the sun,
And greenwood fly and blossom haunting bee
Are never weary of their melody.
Round field hedge now flowers in full glory twine,
Large bindweed bells, wild hop and streaked woodbine
That life athirst their slender throated flowers,
Agape for dew falls and for honey showers;
These round each bush in sweet disorder run
And spread their wild hues to the sultry sun,
Where its silk netting lace on twigs and leaves
The mottled spider at eve's leisure weaves,
That every morning meet the poet's eye
Like fairies; dew-wet dresses hung to dry.