Lost stories

The last few weeks have whizzed by at an alarming rate. There are stories that should have been captured here. Of mornings when the tall stems of yellow irises and calla lilies witnessed scenes of metamorphoses; of sunny days when the red mason bees laboured, adding mouthful after mouthful of our clay soil to partition their nests; of the opening of exotic blooms on the pond’s surface; and of walking through a froth of cow parsley out in the fields beyond the house. Time has taken them, but the images remain.


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