I'm not good at flowers. I can learn a name one day, and have forgotten it the next. And so many look the same, particularly little yellow vaguely dandelion-ish things - they are the equivalent of little brown birds.
My sister is much better than me - I can remember admiring her carefully-compiled and labelled pressed flower albums. Not surprisingly, she grew into a very skilled and knowledgeable gardener.
Philosopher and I often reflect that modern kids don't seem to have hobbies in the same way that we did. Both of us collected stamps when we were children, involving much agreeable palaver around soaking the stamps off envelopes, tweezing, licking stamp hinges (which came in little tins), arranging them in albums, comparing contents of swap books with friends etc. This article in the Telegraph is among many speculating about why that particular hobby has declined.
Scarlet Pimpernel Dead-nettle
Yellow flag Woundwort
Hawkweed Marsh Thistle
Daisy White water lily
Ox-eye daisy Corn chamomile
Hedge Mustard Shepherd's Purse
Bird's Foot Trefoil Hedge Bindweed
Wild carrot Plantain
Sow thistle Dog rose
Field poppy Black medick
Opium poppy Red and white clover
Tufted Vetch Herb Robert
Cut leaved Cranesbill Mallow
The reeds were full of electric blue damselflies. Here are a few pictures from our walk.
|Navelwort on old wall|
|Bird's foot trefoil plus bee|
|Philosopher, plus poppies, field chamomile and yellow rape|
That's it now. Downstairs to watch Wimbledon with a cold glass of fizzy wine.