Life has been flitting past too fast, getting away from me, leaving me with a permanent hair-blown-back feeling. Our festivals mark the passing of the seasons and seem to swoop round ever faster. Luckily they also make me slow down and notice things: the flowers, which have passed from pure white snow carpet of white daisies to gold bronzed dusting of yellow daisies; pypies succeeded by watsonias, tall and elegant in all shades from white to salmon pink to fiery orange; the moon still waxing then and now just past full; the herb seeds germinating and showing themselves in my new herb garden; strawberries starting to ripen in the veggie garden with the promise of enough berries for strawberry jam this year.
Our spring festival is a celebration of water and flowers - flower crowns, flowered archway, flowers floating in water. The girls rushed around gathering posies to decorate the circle - bright magenta vygies, red bottlebrush, orange golden shower and pink wild pear as well as gazanias and daisies. Our son's friends only arrived late, so the usual sand and water-work constructions of engineering genius, getting ever more elaborate every year, weren't there and it was a simpler event but just as lovely as ever.
