Spring

Such a cruel tease, is Spring; she taunts us, flaunts her buds and leaves, makes us want her, need her. She raises our hopes, we who needed warmth and sunshine after a long, cold, dark winter. Then, just when we think we have her, she turns and bites us, with sudden vicious frosts, grey days and rain.

A fickle season, we long for her, we yearn for her touch and then she comes but she is no summer; Spring is growth and awakening, not just the sunshine that we dreamt about but the rain the gardens need. So out come the wellies and umbrellas. You want your April showers to wash my hopes away? No chance! I shall go hunting for rainbows instead.

Skeletons in the Garden

At this time of year, everyone is eagerly watching out for all the leaves and flowers that are popping up all over the place. I am certainly enthusiastic about every little splash of green in the hedgerows as nature comes alive again. Before clearing out the flower beds completely, I just wanted to catch the remnants of last year's greenery.

I acquired some poppies in the last couple of years, presumably imported via the local birds. They provided a lot of welcome colour in the garden so I left the heads behind when they finished flowering, as much to allow the seeds to spread as through laziness. All that is left now is a skeleton army, crowned empty cages where the heads used to be:

In their own way, these empty heads are every bit as beautiful as the flowers they used to be.

It's Raining Again!

It was a very soggy school run this morning but I still enjoyed the walk, the rain on my face was really refreshing and was far more effective than the coffee I'd had when it came to making me feel more awake. I hadn't expected to find any good pictures today but then I spotted a Christmas tree ornament dangling from a still-bare tree, which made me smile and, of course, I just had to get the camera out:

Returning to the car park along the riverside path I saw nothing inspirational - until I was almost back at the car. Instead of seeing puddles on black tarmac, I saw a mirror, reflecting the trees ahead of me:

My final picture was taken from inside the car, looking out of the windscreen through the rain; a simple scene that we see so often and never notice, I love the way that the water distorts the view to create an entirely different picture, making art out of a miserable view.

Silver Linings

When the sky is grey, it can be hard to imagine that there is still blue sky beyond the clouds. This picture shows two very different sky views layered together, with the rough dark clouds that threatened rain all day splitting apart and a peaceful blue sky lurking in the background, a few wispy little white clouds sitting high in the distance. It reminds me that however dull or stormy a situation might be, there is still calm beyond it, waiting for the clouds to move away.

They say that every cloud has a silver lining - it shows up quite well here! I am not sure that I have ever seen clouds glowing quite so brightly before.

Minutes later the cloud had thinned, turning silver to gold, almost appearing to set the trees on fire:

The sunset here created a remarkable deep pink colour deep within these heavy clouds. The sky below is remarkably colourless in contrast, leaving the coloured cloud looking as though the fire is coming from inside.

Finally, a picture taken moments after sunset when the sun itself has moved out of sight but the sky is still glowing a golden yellow. The cloud layer above was so thick in the sky that it seems almost completely black in contrast to the last scraps of daylight, a blackout blind being drawn down to turn day into night in one stroke.

Colours in Winter

Winter can be quite a monochromatic season so the occasional glimpse of colour can be very cheering. Sunrise on an icy morning provided a beautiful pink-grapefruit zing to liven up the bare trees; the colourless appearance of the frosted grass adding to the impact:

The silver grey of  frosted grass makes the colour of red buds stand out more too, like colour on a black-and-white film:

This riverside is completely multicoloured, with the green of ivy, the red stems of dogwood and yellowy willow branches brought to life in the weak February sunshine. Blue sky reflected in the river completes the effect; nothing about this scene could be considered dull.

Even as the winter draws to an end and we are starting to get the first colours of spring arriving there is still evidence of winter's own decorations; this winter began with a spectacular abundance of berries and, although most have now gone to feed the birds, this little tree is still covered with them:

Finally we have the first blossoms about to explode onto the scene. The red buds from the frosty morning are ready to bloom, launching us properly into the bright, cheerful spring that awaits us:

On a smaller scale

It's been a lovely warm afternoon for late February so I've been weeding the gravel bed that makes up our front garden. Dandelions and thistles are not exactly photogenic so I only took the camera out for the "before" and "after" shots that would convince me that I'd made a difference. I was glad I had it though, when I found this little ladybird on my gravel:

I couldn't catch the orange centipede I saw because it was too fast and disappeared under the gravel before I could find it in the viewfinder. However, this little shell in the flower bed wasn't going anywhere:

You would think that a skeleton leaf might behave a little better for a photographer but that was not the case. First, it insisted on being too well camouflaged against the gravel and the stones of the wall to show up. Then, when I found a white slab that would help to show it off, the wind kept picking my leaf up and trying to blow it away. Finally, I brought it in and put it on a slate table mat where it posed beautifully for me:

Frosted Figs

Sometimes a walk around town can yield completely unexpected results. On a particularly frosty morning I took a little detour after dropping a boy off at school to see what interesting pictures I could find.  Although palm trees are not particularly unusual in the South of England, they are not what I am thinking about when I am looking for frosty winter scenes.

Equally alien is this poor little fig tree, leafless in the dead of winter but with a cluster of figs clinging on, glistening with frost.