The Gallery - Mother Nature

The Gallery is here again...And it is Mother Nature this week.

I could do lots of summery pictures of flowers and stuff, but instead I have taken pictures this week, wintery wonders.

Are these snowdrops

And then this is a leaf from my bay tree. 

I got this as a cutting from my Mum & Dad's neighbour (and mine until I was 18).  Uncle Vic and Auntie Morva lived next door all the time I was growing up.

I was visiting home and Uncle Vic brought the cutting around on boxing day. He also brought mistletoe and we had a little kiss. He was well into his eighties and died the next day. 

My little bay tree lived in a pot for years and travelled to every flat or house I lived in. I have lived in my current house for 10 and a half years. My bay tree is now taller than me and firmly planted. But if I move it is coming with me. 

Uncle Vic and Auntie Morva where keen gardeners. Uncle Vic is my father nature.

Snowdrops and Kisses

When I write I write for myself. I don't do this for anyone else. 

When I write, I write to get the words out, there are too many in my head.

When I write, I can't promise I will write about something nice.

When I write, it's like when I talk, free flowing, with no logical end.

When I write, I think about what I am writing about, and nothing else.

That's nice.

When I write, it is to make my mind not think of other things.

When I write, I can think of snowdrops and kisses.

When  I write, I don't have to think about the washing or the cleaning or the dirty cat bowl or the cob web on the kitchen window or the basket or ironing or the work I go to or the people I look after.

I don't have to think.

When I write. 

That's nice.