Isis, Vulcan and I were out in the woods early this morning, just after 6am! The sun, on its ascent, was reaching through the trees and dancing on dew-diamonds that twinkled like halos around each leaf and blade of grass. Poised for the summer solstice the woods were alive and breathing; hibernation and repose, the mark of Saturnalia, seem light years away.
Steadfast and strong, the wise old holly tree is adorned with the powdery pop-poms of the energetic Himalayan Musk; sweet apple scent rises on thermals deep into the wood long before this ephemeral sculpture comes into view. Roses rejuvenated by twenty four hours of sunshine were unfurling velvet petals; their glory a delight for all to see. The dawn chorus filled the air with song, a tantalising prelude to the greatest show on earth:
The Midsummer Garden. Now, I understand how the old bard found his muse!
