Philip Larkin put into words the feelings evoked by spring so simply, and yet in such an evocatively recognisable way. My last post was centred around daffodils - and this one takes blossom as its centrepiece. These blooms are like trailblazers, announcing that the leaves are on their way.
Although Larkin's poem seems to talk of aging (and nature's illusion of youth), the ending could refer to the ability to start "afresh". Spring, and its symbolism of new beginnings, has been very poignant for me this year - as I have had a new start after surgery myself, and am about two thirds of the way through recovery now, as the flowers grace the trees. I will be six months post-operation on the 20th of April.
I was in London for a very quick visit at the beginning of the week, and greatly enjoyed taking a family walk through Regents Park - possibly one of the most colourful places in the city; from the silk-slip-pink blossom trees to the beds that sprout masses of tulips, hyacinths and other flowers that I don't even know the names of.
I dressed accordingly, jumping at the chance to get some sun on my winter-blasted limbs. I was still feeling the last tendrils of inspiration from Brideshead Revisited when I put together this ensemble, and could imagine lying on a boat in this outfit and reading in the dappled light.
The white linen shorts were bought recently in a charity shop and the little tailored jacket is vintage. I know I posted it here with another pair of shorts last summer, but it's made of that really cool linen that acts like a cold flannel to a fevered brow - keeping you feeling fresh even in the blazing sun. Oh, what a relief to use the term "blazing sun"! The shirt was also from a charity shop, the pink brogues are from Next and the silk belt came with a vintage dress. The little box bag is my grandma's, and usually houses kodak films of my dad when he was little. I think the whole colour scheme reminds me of sugared almonds - which always seem to look better than they taste.
Getting the photos for the post was a bit of a palaver - with both mum and dad trying to make something of the quite harshly bright light. In the end, my dad grumbled that he 'just wanted a family walk for once', with no photos involved. I spent the next fifteen minutes merrily joking about discontinuing my blog, because it obviously encroached on the whole family, and took up too much time!! However, once we'd finished our light-hearted huffs, mum and I managed to sneak off and take some photos by a low lying blossom tree before we left. I think it was worth it...
Do you have a favourite line of poetry referring to the seasons? I would love to hear some memorable snippets.
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