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Garden

Catkins

Spring cleaning today, I dusted off an old leather handbag that my mother had made in Art school over seventy years ago.

Exquisitely tooled, alder catkins.

I love the alder when it first buds quietly, almost breathlessly, with a soft ruddy haze on the tips of the branches in the quiet grey days of winter.

Today, perhaps Spring is more than lurking, …

These catkins on my Contorted Hazel  are almost florid with their billowy primrose yellow tassels, as if they could dance with the crocuses, and cast the grey away.

I want to draw them.  Tomorrow, perhaps.  Today, I’m working on a warm cabled vest Inggun which echos the twists and turns of this nature’s entwinement.

Cabled vest