Wistful Wildflower Walk

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Rambling thoughts lift far above wispy skies.

Scented drifts, harebell & verbena

Dance with joy and grief.

Calming columbine peeps

Through dappled light:

A painter’s delight!
My photos and poem were inspired by a beautiful Wildflower garden in a Wildflower nursery in North Norfolk. We visited one quiet morning, had a coffee and then walked along the Glaven valley.

I am dedicating this post to Amanda & Phillipa. Rest in peace. And to their mother Sheila who is recovering in hospital. Please get better soon. I ask for healing for their families too at this very sad time. Thanks to the hospital staff and emergency services.

Midsummer cheers…

Midsummer meadows cheers our hearts.

Bees reeling in floppy poppies, 

Quaint corn cockles and radiant daisies jostle with lazy scabious

Lofty butterflies surf the breeze filled with meadowsweet mist.

Wishing seeds glimmer in honeyed rays,

Teazels  sentinels of the fields, guard the wildflower maze.

Haystacks rest on dusty fields waiting for midsummer to heal.

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Enjoy midummer days and long warm evenings.

Poppy walk

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Sunny morning,

Swifts soaring;

Dog rose scented air.

Maiden’s garlands,

wedding bells afar.

Harebells & summer fairs

Dancing campions,

Wild flower champion

The scarlet poppy!

Dreamy Meadow

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​Lazily, toe by toe,

Treading on wispy grasses;

Soft silk bed of fresh miniature flora.

Soaring high –

 Skylarks, their

Singing lingers like lover’s whispers

Before vanishing through dreamy vapours.

Cow parsley’s filigree fountains

Shower the wake of Ox Eye daisies.

Hazy white petals slightly dazed, 

Enjoy sherbet scented kissing wind.

Wild briar rose

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Wild briar rose,Sun soaked face,

Petals as sheer as fine lace;

Like a dancer on tip toes

Wearing silky pink bows,

Silently pirouetting.

Suddenly a brazen breeze

Brings a helter shelter of

Hawthorn mizzle.

She shelters under a petal glaze

Forlorly marooned in scented dew.

Dreaming of Bluebells

I dream about being in a bluebell woodland,

Morning’s dampness on my hands.

I find a torn seam in elemental’s veil;

Ask to enter the precious trail.

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Bare toes tickling on grassy moss, 

Nose wrinkling as plumes of bluebells waft;

Lost in a deep purple blue lake,

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Looking at the shapes the old oak makes,

Their wizened branches seeking light,

Orange tip butterflies flee with all their might!

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Woodland’s serenade fades gently like a breeze;

I take a sip of Titania’s tea,

Finding myself mixing a pool of morning dew

With soothing dainty hues from the bluebell wood

on my watercolour palette ready for a new painting to emerge.

Replenishing Rapeseed

Rapeseed replenishes, 

Energises.

Clouds of buttery yellow billow;

Brimstones and Commas drenched

In honeyed pollen,

Wings tilting elegantly

Dancing in sunshine.

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Unfortunately those gorgeous delicate butterflies won’t linger long enough! But it is wonderful to watch them. 

Rapeseed oil I hear is very good for us, especially if it is cold pressed. It can help painful joints. 

Happy Easter all! 🙂

Hawthorn morning

Hawthorn petals

like a lace wedding veil,

torn in a March gale;

sailing on scented winds

like fairy wings-

bringing spring’s tingling feeling

of happy, lingering, sunny days.

 
This poem is dedicated to yesterday’s International Poetry Day and a celebration of spring.

I’m really enjoying our walks in the countryside around Cople. Each day I wonder how many more buds are out, what suprises are there under the hedgerows: daisies, celedine, anemonies and tiny violets. Skylarks serenade us along the paths at the edges of fields and red kites circle above. Our prize is watching the brown hares running along the furrows and sunning themselves. Such beauty is to be savoured every moment!

The troubadour

The troubadour seeks hellibores

As his muse,

He visualises a heart wreath made of

Velvet warm petals,  meek rose pink

Twinkling  flowers and snow whites in fine fettle:

A delicate meander of pattern and colour.

From his medieval stone garret,

He weaves his words of love and valour.

Serene Snowdrop

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Serene Snowdrop,

Small heart translucent face,

Peeping shyly through downy lace.

Awakened by a sour biting  breeze,

Which makes her cower, she

Curls up, sheltering under boughs

Of mighty beech trees.

Suddenly a shower of frosty crystals

Adorn the mysterious, tearful princess,

Crowning her with a spectacular tiara

As the dryad minstrels play their lyres.