I keep coming back to this tree as it spreads its branches over the view from Penkhull. I have watched it in leaf, with dying leaves, bare and now in bud. It makes me realise how fast a year can pass. The same with gardening, the seasons and plants come and go. And I’m a year older and no wiser….
It’s been a year of posting here! I don’t know how I did that. I’ve written poems, short stories, sometimes about science. But I’m mainly posting my art and photography. I hope some of it has been interesting. I don’t know it I’ll make a full year again. I hope I’m not boring people. X
This is my 358th continuous day of posting on WordPress. I almost did it before a couple of times, but for whatever reason I crashed back to zero… I hope I can do it this time! Is there a reward for posting every day that we have travelled round the sun? Almost the length of time there has been covid19 in the world? Is it a milestone or a curse being on line every day. I guess it means I haven’t been away on holiday where there was no WiFi… I’m tempting fate!
The roses have faded and are gone. Only memories stay with you. Perfume, thorns.
The autumn and fungi are here, rosehips are swelling, elderberries feed the birds. Clouds are gathering, nights are earlier, mornings later. Time for spooky evenings, pumpkins and spiders. Black cats and rats. Mists descend, people try and raise their spirits with bonfires and fireworks, lighting up the sky with flashes and whizzes. Now few entertainments will be allowed. Life continues, but a grey boredom faces us. Keep away, keep away, keep away, the bird Sings. Out of the darkness people laugh, hide, drink, get up to high jinks. Fools for a day or the season. As the year creeps on festivals are cancelled, subscriptions to TV channels you never watched before increase. Firms named after rain forests cash in. Work continues but strangely. And snacks to comfort us are eaten. Winter arrives in cold airs and frosts, the seasons turn. Will spring and rose buds ever return or will black spot spoil the days?