Simply snowdrops

A sight

To brighten

And delight

One's twilight days.

Happy Nature Friday to all my dear friends.

A Nature Friday question

  
How does it feel to be a snowdrop....

..... in a place with no snow?

In the two decades that Gail has lived in Aberdeen, this is the first winter when the only snowflakes seen in the city have been those arriving on the roofs of cars driving in from hilly areas in the hinterland.

How's winter been in your neck of the woods?

Climate change anyone?

Thanks once again to our ever wonderful Nature Friday blog hop hosts Arty, Jakey and Rosy, a.k.a. The LLB Gang.

No snow just snowdrops at Fyvie Castle

Welcome friends! Once again I am delighted to be joining the LLB gang for Nature Friday. 

This week's expedition is to Fyvie Castle in Aberdeenshire. I am pleased to report that in winter the castle is closed - which means that dogs get taken for walks round the grounds rather than being locked in cars while the humans disappear inside the building for hours and hours looking at old furniture and paintings (yawn). 

Hmm. I think I can smell spring in the air.

And oh look a carpet of snowdrops! Isn't it pretty?

After last week's 'squashed daffodils incident' I hope you can see I am being careful where I sit. 

Happy Nature Friday folks!

Bertie comes over all Prince Charles

So I decided it was time I had a word with the flowers in Duthie Park.

Really they seem most confused this year.

First of all I spoke to the snowdrops:

"Now look here snowdrops, what on earth are you doing still hanging around these parts?  Don't you know it's nearly the middle of April, way past your wilting time. Fancy having the cheek to still be in bloom. I mean I know you are a delightful sight in January, but now you have most certainly outstayed your welcome. And the fact that it keeps snowing is simply no excuse."

Next I addressed the crocuses:

"Well chaps I realise that if the snowdrops are still with us, then you might be thinking you have every right to stick it out here for a bit longer too. But surely you've noticed that it doesn't get dark now until past eight o'clock at night? There's even enough light for the post-work cricketers to come down to the park for a practice session. You'd get a nasty shock if one of those hard cricket balls bounced on your delicate petals wouldn't you? Time, I respectfully suggest, for you to focus your energies on next year's bulb production."

 Finally, I located some daffodils.

"Jeez, you fellows need to buck up your ideas for sure. You know that the Germans call you Osterglocken? Yes, that's right, 'Easter bells'. And when was Easter? Nearly two weeks ago. And most of you have still not shown your face to the world. I don't think our friends in Deutschland would be too impressed with your punctuality would they? OK so one or two of the more precocious amongst you have finally made an effort to get out of your bed, but it's a poor show all round I must say."

Oh. Gail is telling me that when Prince Charles talks to plants, he probably adopts a less hectoring tone, and perhaps I should consider doing the same, rather than sounding like the recently departed Mrs Thatcher (who had few fans in Scotland).

But really what can you do when Spring is so mixed up with its timing?