Writing is educational

Writing is sometimes as educational as reading.  I've been struggling to remember what flowers when, as during the last twelve months in the UK the weather has been cold, damp and unpromising and things haven't grown as they should.  A tv show 'The Wartime Farm' struggled to reconstruct farming during WWII because, as the presenter put it, even the weeds weren't growing.  As I have been pottering around this week I have thought the flowers are doing well for the beginning of March.  However I am typing this at the end of April.

So as ever, when everything else fails I turn to google.  I found this site - English Wildflowers, a Seasonal Guide - and I had a good look round.

While I was trying to find the right plants to add to a descriptive passage in 'Digging up the Past' I found a small entry called 'Chickweed Willowherb'.  I had a bit of a look out of curiosity and I found a plant that I had known from childhood as a very common weed that was easy to pull up when weeding and that had pretty flowers.

picture by martinjohnbishop and posted on iSpot

So while I've known what this plant looks like since I was old enough to toddle, I only now know its name.  I probably won't drop it into the middle of a block of description, but I will remember it.

Interestingly enough, as I was looking for a picture for this I found a site called iSpot, which has all sorts of nature sightings and records just sent in by the public.  I found a few bits that were local to me.  So I learned even more.

It's been a good day, I love learning new things.

My lion

My Lion

My little lovely tabby is looking rather sweet
The elegant and tabby tail is curled around her feet
Expressionless she looks at me with bland and secret eyes
Assured the plate of sausages was dinner in disguise

I want to read the paper but my lap is occupied
A tabby cat is dozing so I've put my read aside
And though it's really painful as the claws are sinking in
The sound of cat contentment keeps me tickling her chin

It's as if a dozen devils are fighting on the floor
And a screwed up piece of paper is tossed from paw to paw
It's thrown, bit and fought and then chased across the stairs
Then the tabby runs in panic from a fright that isn't there

My cat lies soft in sunlight and her fur is golden bright
Her eyes are slits of slumber as she turns into the light
She stretches like a lion sprawled who drowses in the heat
And dreams of Serengeti mice are twitching at her feet

My tabby's meditating and her limbs are all tucked in
Her head is nodding forward as she draws herself within
And who knows if she meditates to the fire's gentle hum
Her focus will reward her and a lion she'll become.

I follow in the footsteps of giants

There is a story here on the BBC news website about a ring that inspired Tolkien and a curse tablet linked to it.

I love finding things like this!