Sunday

Yesterday it rained. Today was fine and sunny, though not without cloud. Since moving to the hill nearly a year ago, after more than thirty years on the flat, I haven't yet tired of the view from the window.

The kowhai tree is flowering. I had left the wheelbarrow underneath it. A host of blossoms had dropped off and were floating in the rainwater.

Sunlight reflecting off the neighbour's attic window onto their roof.

The poetry I am writing this year seems much more focussed on observations of the world around me, than poems I have written previously. Taking photographs is another way of observing my surroundings, details stored up for later.

Long and Lovely and Lush

Spring always reminds me of Gerard Manley Hopkins -

Nothing is so beautiful as spring –
When weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush

I have been hitting the garden hard this weekend - or at least, until Sunday when it started to rain.
It's an urge that strikes me every spring, and then I look at the beautiful fresh green of the long grass in all the flower beds, and wonder why I am thinking of pulling it up. Until I remember - "Oh yes, hay fever".



If I was less erratic in my gardening habits, I could plant more actual flowers when the weeding is done, such as these tulips.



I'm gradually picking up photography tips, being very much self-taught. I want to try the tulips again, with the focus set on the left-hand flower, which is in the foreground, since apparently depth of field is greater behind the point of focus than in front. I'd like to try and get all three in sharp focus against the soft background. (I may not get the raindrops though, if the weather clears).

More Signs of Spring

Daffodils are coming up in my garden:



and other things:

Here comes the Sun

It hasn't been a great winter here so far. Newspaper reports have confirmed what I personally felt, that it has been colder than average with far fewer sunshine hours. Not cold as in heavy snowfalls and sparkling winter white, but cold as in uniformly grey and depressing.

Hence it was a great relief that the sun shone all weekend. I was too congested, and coughing too much, to go anywhere, but I spent my time moving round the house like a cat, curling up in any puddle of sunlight I could find.

I did venture into the garden very briefly on Friday afternoon (having left work early due to my state of health) to photograph the snowdrops which have just emerged. Next it will be dwarf daffodils, and magnolia buds. Spring may be a way off, but it is definitely on the way.

Loveliest of Trees

Loveliest of trees, the cherry now
Is hung with bloom along the bough

Pink, rather than white, like Housman's cherries, but still a magnificent sight all around Christchurch just now.

On the other hand, spring has it's downside. I finally realised that my frequent gritty heavy-eyed feeling is not tiredness, it's an allergy. It's never been a problem for me before, but apparently pollen counts are very high this year after a strange winter - more snow than usual, but also wetter, and warmer on average.

Let's hope the pollen counts settle down soon.

Spring and Other Things

It's been a wet winter and now we are enjoying warm spring days, which means that the grass is growing and there is a volcanic explosion of pollen. I use the word "volcanic" because everything seems to be coated with a fine dust, and when it rains, lines of pollen settle in cracks in the pavements and along the edge of my car windows. The colour reminds me of the sulphur deposits I've seen visiting New Zealand's geothermal areas.

Pollen of course means inflamed sinuses. And the rapid growth means that my backyard has become an overgrown jungle. I spent a fair chunk of the weekend trying to tackle the back lawn. I use a push mower, for the exercise and the benefit to the environment. But it can't cope with the lawns as they are at the moment. I should probably get a "Jim" (Our local lawnmowing/gardneing franchise). My daughter calls her local Jim, whose name is actually Bob, when her lawns get out of hand, but I can't help feeling the money would better be spent on books. (My daughter on the other hand feels her time is better spent writing. She may be right. You can't have it both ways).

Anyway, I couldn't cut the grass with the push mower, and I couldn't find the secateurs, so I ended up trimming the longest patches with kitchen scissors. I may just be a little crazy. On the other hand, since the grass is actually about 60% weeds, and the other 70% or so has an underlayer of moss, at least doing it this way meant I could pull up quite a few of the weeds along the way. And get a close view of all the insect life in the long grass. Besides, I was probably doing something at least as useful as most of the other things I do at weekends (such as surfing the net, playing computer games and generally not writing).

I did, however, while not writing, manage to send off a couple of poetry submissions. While noting that the last time I sent anything out was about two years ago. Today I have three poems rattling in my head, so I'm planning to actually do some writing this week (which I had better get on with, since it is nearly bedtime).