Last week on the first day of May, I took a photograph of the the dandelions at the foot of Waden Hill which were then a blaze of golden yellow (see May-day in Avebury) . Today, just ten days later the same meadow is a field of dandelion clocks, quite astonishingly ethereal and delicate. The ever changing face of Nature is always a joy to observe.
The Avenue at Avebury - today alight with buttercups, dandelion clocks and daisiesLook at the Grass
Look at the grass, sucked by the seed from dust
Whose blood is the spring rain, whose food the sun
Whose life is the scythe takes ere the sorrels rust,
Whose stalk is chaff before winter's done.
Even the grass its happy moment has
In May, when glistening buttercups make gold;
The exulting millions of the meadow grass
Give out green thanksgiving from the mould.
Even the blade that has not even a blossom
Creates a mind, its joy's persistent soul
Is a warm spirit on the old earth's bosom
When April's fire has dwindled to a coal;
The spirit of the grasses' joy makes fair
The winter fields when even the wind goes bare.
John Masefield (1878 - 1967)
