As I exited from the national park I saw the pink grevillia shown in yesterday's post, threatened by a creeping jungle of Convulvus (Morning Glory) -- a weedy escapee from nearby gardens. Among its purple flowers was a clump of freesias. I clambered through the tangle to pick the cream flowers and draw in their lovely fragrence.
At home I added to the bunch, leaving them aside while I chased the elusive spinebill.
At home I added to the bunch, leaving them aside while I chased the elusive spinebill.
Photo: Freesias, my garden (Not a native flower)
Words to walk with:
From Spring by Gerard Manly Hopkins
"Nothing is so beautiful as Spring —
When weeds in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush;
Thrush's eggs look little low heavens, and thrush
Through the echoing timber does so rinse and wring
The ear, it strikes like lightnings to hear him sing;
The glassy peartree leaves and blooms, they brush
The descending blue; that blue is all in a rush
With richness; the racing lambs too have fair their fling."
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