It feels unspeakably mean to bring in any flowers from the garden at the moment (on the last count: Winter Jasmine, the odd daisy and, improbably, Hoop Petticoat Daffodils) so I'm picking them up, at great speed, on the weekly shop. Just basic bitch supermarket flowers: daffs and-and -another like basic tulips or carnations. I have a very soft spot for them though; they have an irrepressible cheerfulness.
Last week's tulips have, as they always do, died beautifully. Even the daffs have withered tidily with them, as if caught up in the tulips' love of the glamour of decay. Dying daffs are more often a spludge of gunky yellow; these have kept their form.
One more day and they will be over, but for today it's beautiful.
No comments:
Post a Comment