This morning I had to drive five miles across country to give a Talk at a Golf Club for the gentlemen members of Probus (and on this occasion, their ladies too). Afterwards I took a walk around the neighbouring village , and much enjoyed the profusion of flowers everywhere - hanging baskets and flower-filled tubs decorating the rather select shops, and the immaculately cared-for cottage gardens overflowing with an abundance of foxgloves, poppies, columbines, forget-me-nots, and the first roses of the season. No wonder this particular village regularly wins 'Britain in Bloom' prizes - in the summer sunshine it seemed the very essence of old-fashioned Englishness.
As I drove home I passed a magnificent laburnum tree, its swags of bright yellow blossom swaying gently in the light breeze, and I actually pulled the car over to stop and admire a large and very elegant tamarisk . Its feathery branches were covered with delicate pink blossom, and it looked totally content to be growing a long way from the coast, where it is more usually to be found. May trees everywhere were smothered in pink and white, and dusty pink 'candles' stood proudly and prolifically on the branches of chestnut trees. Truly Nature paints the countryside in such gloriously colourful brushstrokes at this time of year. (and sadly I didn't have my camera with me to capture Nature's pictures.)
And yet .... and yet.... I have to admit that when I returned home to our own garden I was really wowed by something literally more down to earth. Simple little dainty white daisies, and satiny yellow buttercups were popping up all over the lawn. I can't remember this ever happening before - perhaps as a result of John painstakingly removing almost 400 dandelions from the grass quite recently, these other more tender wild flowers have been able to flourish. It is strange that we are happy to allow daisies and buttercups to invade our regularly mowed greensward, yet we can't wait to get rid of dandelions! For me, happy childhood memories came tumbling into my mind - of lying on my tummy in the grass, making endlessly long daisy chains , and thrusting solitary buttercups under the chins of my brother and sisters to 'see if they liked butter'.
DAISIES:
At evening when I go to bed
I see the stars shine overhead;
They are the little daisies white
That dot the meadow of the night.
And often while I'm dreaming so
Across the sky the moon will go
It is a lady, sweet and fair
Who comes to gather daisies there.
For when at morning I arise
There's not a star left in the skies;
She's picked them all and dropped them down
Into the meadows of the town.
(F.D.Sherman).
:...... and.....
BUTTERCUPS:
Down in a field one day in June,
The flowers all bloomed together,
Save one who tried to hide herself
And drooped that pleasant weather.
A robin who had flown too high
And felt a little lazy
Was resting near a buttercup
Who wished she were a daisy
For daisies grew so big and tall
She always had a passion
For wearing frills around her neck
In just the daisies' fashion.
And buttercups must always be
The same old tiresome colour;
While daisies dress in gold and white,
Although their gold is duller.
'Dear Robin' said the sad young flower,
'Perhaps you'd not mind trying
To find a nice white frill for me,
Some day when you are flying.'
'You silly thing' the robin said
'I think you must be crazy
I'd rather be my honest self
Than any made-up daisy.'
'You're nicer in your own bright gown
The little children love you
Be the best buttercup you can
And think no flower above you.'
'Though swallows leave me out of sight
We'd better keep our places
Perhaps the world would all go wrong
With one too many daisies'
'Look bravely up into the sky
And be content with knowing
That God wished for a buttercup
Just here, where you are growing.'
