I am finding few words in the sudden spring overwhelm. The new greens are soaking my senses: The translucent shoots sprouting at the ends of the vines and, backlit by the sun as it rises up behind the mountain, creating drapes of fairy lights; the smoky blue pools of green wheat making my arms twitch with the beginnings of backstroke; the slight perspiration of a sleepy broad bean freed from its velvet lined crib, or a pea popped from its airy pod. We don't get green for very long here before the heat of the sun frazzles everything, and it is to be treasured as much as a ray of sunshine on a Scottish island.
Everything is out: Irises so fragrant I can hardly bear to smell them, whimsical poppies nodding in agreement with zesty spurge, hawthorne with the faint pissy smell of my childhood in the English countryside, broome, grape hyacinths, fennel, mint.... .
Perhaps it is because I have my quartet head on and that my thinking seems to take the form of melodies and harmonies rather than words at the moment. I will not bore you with "Aaah! THAT'S where the second theme comes from" or "The whole of the development is in hemiolas" despite the joy such a realisation might bring me as I take my morning jog through the cherry trees just coming into leaf. This wordlessness is rare for me.
I may just put pictures up for the moment...meanwhile, if you are feeling sleepy as a broad bean, please go and check these lovely lullabies out.