Wild garlic and a cacophony of bird song, there’s no social media in the woods, just the excited chatter of a new season.
It’s been a week of snow, sun and dying Royals. A week of sad television.
We all go the same way, we’re all earthworm food.
I’ve always liked that thought, I don’t want a golden carriage, just chuck me in the hole and plant a cheeky dandelion on top.
Posted on April 11, 2021, in Uncategorized and tagged Birds, death, Drawing, Illustration, Sketchbook, spring, Trees, wildlife. Bookmark the permalink. 1 Comment.
The ultimate recycle of life. My grandmother had a bed of pansies by the walkway to the back door. My grandfather always grumped about them. In the spring many years after their passing I visited their graves. Pops was covered in dandelions and granny’s was coved in wild violets. She bloomed in death as she had in life. I laughed til I cried.
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