Skip to main content

The rhododendrons are finished now

The rhododendrons bloom for the month of May at the Royal Botanical Gardens in Edinburgh.  So the rhododendrons are finished now.
Related imageImage result for royal botanical gardens edinburgh rhododendronsImage result for royal botanical gardens edinburgh rhododendrons
Still their popsicle colours--cherry and orange, blueberry and grape--quench my memory.
Related imageImage result for popsicle pete
But even with the temporary passing of the rhododendron and  the azalea--the king is dead; long live the king--there are other subjunctives from the Chinese highlands to excite the mind.

Blue and yellow poppies yet remain.
Blue poppies under redwood - Dawyck Botanic Garden  http://www.rbge.org.uk/the-gardens/dawyck/seasons-highlights/summer-highlights
And heather even blooms in the Winter, when nothing else will grow.
  Heather in Glen Derry, Aberdeenshire, in full bloom. Note the purple hill in the middle distance and the higher bare tops of the Cairngorms beyond - where the exposure means that even heather won't grow.
And never fear that even the neatest species will spread its wings and alight on your hand.  I am speaking of the chaffinch and robin, who will eat the crumbs of scones out of your hand.
Image result for handfeeding chaffinch
And Spring and Summer sun are such surprising guests that in behind a bush or hedge, you might find Scottish lassies sunning themselves in their underwear instead of having lunch.
Many hit parks to catch a tan during this week’s heatwave – with some stripping down to their underwear.Many social media users aired their views saying it was the best way to make the most of the British weatherImage result for sunbathing in underwear in britain
But careful not to gawk--nude beach rules apply.  After all, what's wrong with merely taking advantage of a break in the weather to enjoy that rare thing, one fine day, or moments stolen from a season that is just as likely to give snow as sun.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Things always end in the Summer

In the middle of the second major heatwave of the season, the City cut the wildflowers along the footpath.  I mean they cut everything 30 inches on either side of the pavement, but since the flowers were my friends, all I saw was that they cut the flowers, even though they actually mowed indiscriminately.  And it must have been a chore for the labourer in this heat, so his feet were heavy when he made hay of the prettiest parts of the Summer.  But I can't get to that right now; I'm still reeling from the loss of chicory, and the other pinks and yellows and blues whose names I was just beginning to learn. "Program, get your program", I heard the barker call on my way to the bleachers.  I turned once and caught his eye, and looked at the program in his hand and back into his eyes--all the while his eyes following mine--but then he looked back to his hand, and again into my eyes and he said "You can't tell the player without a card"! Did it matter that ...

We're past that now

First to arrive and last to leave the robins make you think you're in for an Indian Summer but I believe we're past that now still it was nice to see a group of four splashing in a puddle on the driveway when leaves have already been raked and first frost settling in to nightly routine unlike the English robin these are apparently a species of thrush still dainty in their own way their russet breasts matching the pumpkins on the steps I had a silly thought perhaps with their entreating chirps they were trick or treating perhaps they were old residents of the street come back in disguise to tease and remind us they're still here though much changed and diminished in size but tall yet in spirit as they tugged at the lawn for worms or whatever was going when life was already draining from the trees and the whispers of the dawn.
The city mover beat me to the chicory this evening maybe if I had passed by earlier I could have caught a glimpse of them but they will rise Phoenix like from the close cropped pile of grass and weed and present their brash and uneven beauty once again before the need for carpet and trimming loops of magic made by subterranean rug weavers is once again mandated and duly executed by the city crew in the burnt orange cabs of their ride along mowers browning the backs of their hands and letting the heat weather beat their faces to match the cabs and fulfill some unspoken contract between landscaping and maintenance and the gods of Chance Fortune as ever favouring the bold there will be other routs of the mover before the Summer is done and more rain hopefully if I can contain the fear of thunderheads building and more returns of visible biodiversity Nature never surrenders unconditionally but like a lover choosing her battl...