All day it has been so gorgeous, and I think it's particularly fitting my poem at the London Underground's Poem for the Day page was this one by Emily Dickinson:
I taste a liquor never brewed -
From Tankards scooped in Pearl -
Not all the Vats upon the Rhine
Yield such an Alcohol!
Inebriate of Air - am I -
And Debauchee of Dew -
Reeling - thro endless summer days -
From inns of Molten Blue -
When "Landlords" turn the drunken Bee
Out of the Foxglove's door -
When butterflues - renounce their "drams" -
I shall but drink the more!
Till Seraphs swing their snowy Hats -
And Saints - to windows run -
To see the little Tippler
Leaning against the - Sun -
Landlady J and I decided we just couldn't take it anymore. She's working on a dissertation about rocks at the minute, so she's probably hating life a lot more than I am. We drove up to the Outwoods and spent an hour hiking around amongst the bluebells. Turns out they're a protected flower here because 20 years ago they started getting rare. Only now that you're not allowed to pick them they are spreading out, which I have no problem with.
Check out the pictures! It's like that part in The Secret Garden where suddenly all the pretty flowers just appear in the woods. Oh! (claps hand over mouth and starts the tear wave at the preciousness of it all)
Anyway, enjoy, and I hope it's sunny where you are!
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