Tag Archives: frilly poppy

Fairy Wings, Garden Colour and Singing

I fitted the repaired wings to two of my Fairies today and am delighted with how they now look and that now they will be able to fly, albeit that they are learners!

We are delighted with the serendipitous odd pops of colour in our garden. Both the Poppy and the Crocosmia are self-sown.

In the last few days, members of The Inglehearts’ Singers have recorded themselves at home singing new words to Trelawny, the Cornish anthem,  words designed to encourage people in Camborne to wear their masks and to help each other in these uncertain Covid times.



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Emerging Poppy, Feather and Tiny Tomatoes

Early this morning I found this Poppy just beginning to open. Glorious!

Poppy bud bursting

Emerging Poppy

Then I noticed a fluffy little feather caught up in the tendrils of the Sweet Peas.

Lovely line

Feather caught in the Sweet Pea tendrils

Our baby tomatoes, which we are growing in hanging baskets, are beginning to ripen. We shared the first one today and it was very sweet and tomatoey.

Ripening baby tomatoes

Tumbling tomatoes


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Goodbyes, July Flowers and A Poem

1    We saw our Best Beloveds off on the train this morning. As my lovely wise friend, Nicky, said, “Goodbyes aren’t always easy;  the gift for me is knowing that the feelings of sadness are a mirror to the love I feel.” That is exactly it.

2   Our garden continues to bloom.

3   This poem was on a blog I read recently and it encapsulates my philosophy of finding the beautiful in the everyday where “the world offers itself to your imagination.”   Thank you, Kath. The poet, Mary Oliver is new to me and I shall look for more of her work.

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting –
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
― Mary Oliver


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