• Replies 53 replies
  • Subscribers 42 subscribers
  • Views 973 views
  • Users 0 members are here
Options
Related
Hints and tips
  • To quote someone's message, first select/highlight the relevant text, and then use the Quote button that appears
  • To "mention" someone, type @ followed by the start of the forum name, and choose from the list; that person will get a notification of being mentioned

Spring is springing - what is your favourite flower and your favourite wild flower. Why?

Marianne72

I love the simplicity of daisies [marguerites] also lawn daisies. Also, deep gold marigolds, for their cheerfulness. Lastly, fuchsias of all kinds - especially because they attract the huge humming-bee hawk-moth.

Parents

  • Bluebells. They change the appearance of the land around the trees in such a lavish fashion that Ì just have to “stand and stare”. I stare from a distance, close up and from different angles, willing myself to absorb their brilliance.

    I’m fortunate that there are lots of different locations with stunning bluebell displays near me. I have loads of photographs but they don’t capture the magnificence of the moment in the way that looking intently can.

  • in reply to ArchaeC

    I think theres something about bluebell woods that give us a sort of instinctive magical reaction, I don't know if the smell or what, but they totally transform the atmosphere of a wood.

  • in reply to TheCatWoman
    TheCatWoman said:
    theres something about bluebell woods that give us a sort of instinctive magical reaction

    That’s precisely it and it is something beyond description or replication in photography or art. They have an ethereal quality that draws one in. I’m hoping for some fine weather in the upcoming bluebell season in which to find a nice spot to sit and stare. 

  • in reply to Marianne72

    The response from   reminded me of it. 

    It was one of the easier poems that we learned off by heart at school and it was the one that resonated most.

  • in reply to ArchaeC
    The Way through the Woods
    They shut the road through the woods
    Seventy years ago. 
    Weather and rain have undone it again, 
    And now you would never know 
    There was once a road through the woods 
    Before they planted the trees. 
    It is underneath the coppice and heath, 
    And the thin anemones.
    Only the keeper sees 
    That, where the ring-dove broods,
    And the badgers roll at ease, 
    There was once a road through the woods.
    Yet, if you enter the woods 
    Of a summer evening late, 
    When the night-air cools on the trout-ringed pools 
    Where the otter whistles his mate, 
    (They fear not men in the woods, 
    Because they see so few.) 
    You will hear the beat of a horse's feet, 
    And the swish of a skirt in the dew, 
    Steadily cantering through 
    The misty solitudes, 
    As though they perfectly knew 
    The old lost road through the woods...
    But there is no road through the woods.
    - Rudyard Kipling, 1910.
    - This poem flows through my head; if I spot the UK native white ground cover wildflower; Wood Anemone - flowering in ancient deciduous woodland - usually between March and May.
Reply
  • in reply to ArchaeC
    The Way through the Woods
    They shut the road through the woods
    Seventy years ago. 
    Weather and rain have undone it again, 
    And now you would never know 
    There was once a road through the woods 
    Before they planted the trees. 
    It is underneath the coppice and heath, 
    And the thin anemones.
    Only the keeper sees 
    That, where the ring-dove broods,
    And the badgers roll at ease, 
    There was once a road through the woods.
    Yet, if you enter the woods 
    Of a summer evening late, 
    When the night-air cools on the trout-ringed pools 
    Where the otter whistles his mate, 
    (They fear not men in the woods, 
    Because they see so few.) 
    You will hear the beat of a horse's feet, 
    And the swish of a skirt in the dew, 
    Steadily cantering through 
    The misty solitudes, 
    As though they perfectly knew 
    The old lost road through the woods...
    But there is no road through the woods.
    - Rudyard Kipling, 1910.
    - This poem flows through my head; if I spot the UK native white ground cover wildflower; Wood Anemone - flowering in ancient deciduous woodland - usually between March and May.
Children