Further randomness
Just a few shots from a couple of walks around town. I couldn't maintain Tom's extensive front gardens by myself, so a while back I faced defeat and had them tilled up and converted to lawn. Some of the daffodils didn't get the memo. My favorite spring flowers are the squills that turn up on their own in random spots in my yard. Seeing them always reminds me of the Amy Lowell poem "Patterns," which begins I walk down the garden paths, And all the daffodils Are blowing, and the bright blue squills. I walk down the patterned garden paths In my stiff, brocaded gown. With my powdered hair and jewelled fan, I too am a rare Pattern. As I wander down The garden paths. I love the contrast between the constraints that bind the speaker and the freewheeling nature of the squills. And there's nothing like crocus to bring a smile and thoughts of summer.