I haven’t the foggiest about what was supposed to be in this picture – the lone flower in the middle was probably not it. Why do I like this nonetheless? The texture of the background (or possibly foreground). Those swirling out-of-focus branches breaking the yellow of the background into something almost resembling a stained glass window.
I love these budding leaves, sweet, sticky and full of promise. Soon, soon! the summer will be here.
Today I went looking for snowdrops. It’s actually too early in the year, and the day was freezing, the sky full of clouds and the light terrible. But, if you know where to look, the first signs of spring are already there – snowdrops, aconites, hellebores and primroses are starting to bloom, first tentative buds already open. By the end of January, they will be everywhere, and that is really the only good thing about this month.
Less than two weeks to Christmas now, and suddenly I’m feeling the winter. Skies have been clearer, the air crispier. Yesterday the frost lasted all day, the grass crunching just the tiniest bit under my foot, and from the shadowy corner of the University Park, I found a puddle of water frozen over. There are rumours that the New Year will be coldest in decades. I have struggled to find Christmas spirit (the past few weeks have been difficult in many ways, filled with stress and grief, but also with small moments of joy), and so I’m rather looking forward to January – a month I associate with cold sunlight and snowdrops, those first whispered promises of spring.
Winter in the southern England has certain lushness about it. It’s never so cold that all the nature would die, and so the grass will be green, the fields will grow winter crops, and through the dead leaves fresh shoots of cow parsley are already growing, defiantly.
All photos were taken with my trusty old MF 50mm lens; I still love the hazy, dreamy textures it creates.