red ibis red

She was going home to a place where rain fell deeply and quietly on green grass…and where the pure light and penetration of it would wash the dust for ever out of her bones.

Perhaps we had better agree to carry a flower so as to know it's us. The price of flowers is awful. Two-and-six for a dozen snowdrops. But I have to buy them sometimes, all the same. I can't do without flowers, they make such a difference.

“Canna lilies, big pink flowers, wide open, radiant, almost frighteningly alive on bright crimson stems.”

I wait to feel something mystical, an oddity in my blood or bones. I am vulnerable to superstitions and fairy tales, the pockets of weirdness smattering the land.