I’ve been having trouble thinking of something I want to blog about, I’ve started and put down various books all week (To the North by Elizabeth Bowen and The Brontes Went to Woolworths by Rachel Ferguson being the best among them, which I will probably finish at some point. I also flirted with The Camomile Lawn by Mary Wesley, which seems a sort of WW2 soap opera…)
Finally after lounging around today, eating hot dogs and lying on the grass staring up at the spring green on the trees, I saw a lilac tree with just budding flowers. Which reminded me that I collect poems about lilacs and now is a perfect time to start sharing them.
Out Of May’s Shows Selected
Apple orchards, the trees all cover’d with blossoms;
Wheat fields carpeted far and near in vital emerald green;
The eternal, exhaustless freshness of each early morning;
The yellow, golden, transparent haze of the warm afternoon sun;
The aspiring lilac bushes with profuse purple or white flowers.
(The photo is of my wedding bouquet, from just over two years ago. I love purple, as you can see!)