Ho there you Northern Hemispherical people! Here’s a gloat from the South: Its spring! Yup! All you jammy folks who’ve been speaking of lovely warm summer’s days while I shiver (oh alright, it doesn’t get all that cold here, but we think its cold) will soon be subjected to the same treatment from the Maunderer.
What’s that? Too early for spring yet? Pish! You are speaking to the observer of vegetation here, and if the Jasmine’s in flower and the trees are in bud, its spring alright.
Yes, and I can feel my sap (which is green, except when I cut myself) rising, and soon I’ll be in full and glorious bloom, radiating vitality and other disgustingly cheerful and healthful attributes.
A brief digression here: I was reading yet another advert for a 'health and wellness' program. Why does the word 'wellness' make my skin crawl? And what, please enlighten me, is the difference between 'health' and 'wellness' other than a few extra letters? Silly word.
Anyway, spring: ‘Cuckoo jug jug’ as Shakespeare said, although why on earth he should want to say it is beyond me. I think it had something to do with birds, although I’ve never heard one say ‘jug’ yet. I hope its not obscene in bird-ese. If so, apologies to those of you who are of an avian persuasion.
This summer, I intend to practice my photosynthesis. I haven’t got it right just yet, but when I do, I shan’t have a worry left in the world, believe me.
Of course, I was born in summer, and with one or two exceptions, most people I’ve come across seem to like the season they were born in best of all. How about you?
Today's pic: proof positive: a sunbird (related to humming birds) in full breeding plumage.