It was blowing a wet gale this morning. I took Arthur out for a bad-tempered walk – which is to say, I was bad-tempered; he was quite happy noodling along and smelling all the fascinating scents everywhere, while I froze, dripped, tugged fruitlessly at his lead and used some very unladylike language. Then I filled all the bird feeders again (I hope the Offspring aren’t hoping for anything when R and I shuffle off, because the local birdlife is steadily munching its way through their inheritance).
Then I thought about a blip, and rapidly decided that it would need to be an indoor one. I had an idea yesterday for a high-key image of some spring flowers, and this seemed like a good day to try it out – the only problem being to find some blooms in the garden that hadn’t been battered into the mud by the combination of rain and ferocious wind. These hellebores and spring crocuses were the best I could come up with: they’re not bad, as long as you don’t look too closely! The container is a tiny iridescent perfume bottle.
