A Flower-filled Afternoon.
A Flower-filled Afternoon.
As I walked to the post box, to catch the half past four o’clock post, I once again noticed the beautifully tended gardens and flowers around the village.
Two sentinels of perfect topiary graced the entrance to one garden where the front lawn looked ironed rather than mown, it was so neatly trimmed.
. Next door, a chorus line of scarlet salvia, all grown each year from seed I was assured, danced around the borders of the equally beautiful sward of green, this one awaiting it’s trim to rid it of the tiny bugles, daisies, trefoils, clovers and whatever else were painting pretty dots over it.
Every year, each season, it is the same. Local gardeners, some I have learnt, born and bred here, take enormous care and joy in their gardens. These flowers and shrubs, and many more, light up a long bank bordering the corner house as you walk down the road. The lady who made the garden, and knew all her plants, died a few years ago, and the garden lives on as her wonderful legacy to the village. I hope that the new owners don’t try to change it too much.
One elderly gentleman, who was a local man born here eighty eight years ago, called to me as I was wandering up a twitchel towards the church.
“Why was I wandering up this narrow pathway?”
The man’s neighbour, having spotted me taking photographs on my way to the post box, advised me that if it were flower pictures I was interested in, I should visit the church, where there had been a Flower Festival just this past weekend. So I did: the twitchel was supposed to be a short cut.
It was the second, elderly man who insisted on helping me to find the best way to the church, the door through which I would have taken a short cut, being locked. I didn’t need the help, but was acutely aware of the kindness and friendliness of this stranger, especially as just a few minutes before, a woman on the other side of the road, whom I didn’t recognise, had called “Hallo!” as well, making me remember Mick1970’s comments, made just this morning, about differences in town and country life. It is a pleasure to meet such welcoming friendliness.
Entering the quiet, cool church interior, I took a photograph of the array of lilies and other flowers displayed in the vestibule.
Inside, there were displays from the local school and I idly wondered which flower had been painted by our Granddaughter as most displays had no individual’s name on them; rather fair I thought.
As I wandered quietly around the small interior, Looking at the displays of plants and flowers, both real and depicted in design, the whole village structure surrounded me, both past and still very much present: our Today, is the future’s History…. nice to fill it with flowers.
Back home, parents returned from a wedding, we had Hermione’s cakes…..
…..reminding me of the flower cakes in the church.
…A flowery Day.