Our designated daily exercise took us up the moorland hill that looms malignly in view of our house. In truth we skirted rather than climbed. It was quiet, except for the exuberant birdlife, and the fresh air was soothing and much appreciated. The wildflowers are being to shine, it is their time. The celandine, the violets, the thorn, all beautiful. They will be there whether or not we are there to appreciate them. I rather like that thought. It is all going on even if we aren’t at the party. Fair play, I say. Get on with it, do your thing.
Stitchwort is one of my favourite spring flowers. I love its name and its simplicity. Although I cared to see it, it didn’t give a fig whether I was there or not. That is how it should be.