The twenty third day

I am beginning to understand the 17th century Dutch phenomenon of tulip fever.

I took my daughter to the garden this morning. She played with Tiny and looked for fairies. She announced that this was the very best thing I had ever done with her.

The colours of the tulips are exquisite. One yellow tulip looked as though a Flemish master had taken a brush, dipped it in red paint, and delicately washed the petals with crimson. Others are like candy striped lollies. Still others are of the utmost simplicity - white petals with green stamens.

Some tulip beds are planted in single colour groupings - made even more beautiful by a random tulip in a completely different colour. Other beds are a riot of primary colours, joyful in the shine of the sun.

In amongst the vivid colours, the cloud stippled sky, the green leaved, large limbed trees I was struck by something.

Is there anything in the world more delicate than blossom caught in the shivery silver of a spider's web?

The twenty second day

Another warm day in the garden today. The beauty of this place has the power to literally take your breath away.

I overheard the garden's owner saying "You look amazing" to one bed of tulips and when I emerged from where I had been taking photographs he said without embarrassment that he liked to talk to his garden.

His garden seems very grateful for the praise.

The scent! The delicate perfume of blossom.

The gentle drift of petals to the ground. The springtime equivalent to the fall of bronzed autumn leaves.