April Flowers

It's that time of year when the flowers are starting to bloom and the air smells all sweet and perfumed again. And I just love it. My house has always played home to a couple of bunches of flowers - a vase on the cabinet in the living room, a jug or two on the bookshelf, a few small bowls of floating flower-heads on the kitchen windowsill, and another jug on the side table at the top of the stairs- wherever my mum can find room to stock Tulips, Peonies, Roses, Daffodils, Lilac and more.

So it's not surprising that my Instagram is filling up with snaps of flowers.

xxx Lucy xxx

Oh look! More doors...

In my previous post I described the trauma I inflicted on malta in my quest to find the most attractive, most charming or most individual of doors.

I don't know exactly when, why or what made me so interested in a good door, but I can no longer walk down a road without peeping through gates to catch a glimpse of the grand entrance, and I must look suspicious when hovering in front of a house because 'ooooh isn't that colour just exquisite?'

In all the best children's story books, the adventures begin with a door. Goldilocks would never have been able to scoff the porridge, break a stool or get caught sleeping in a bears bed without the door having been left open to the cottage and Alice would not have discovered Wonderland and all it's strange residents without having first entered (after much shrinking) a teeny tiny door.

I have, to my relief, not had to experience any of the above scenarios, so I shall just keep my distance and take photos instead.

"It was the lock of the door which had been closed ten years and she put her hand in her pocket, drew out the key and found it fitted the keyhole. She put the key in and turned it. It took two hands to do it, but it did turn.

And then she took a long breath and looked behind her up the long walk to see if any one was coming. No one was coming. No one ever did come, it seemed, and she took another long breath, because she could not help it, and she held back the swinging curtain of ivy and pushed back the door which opened slowly–slowly.
Then she slipped through it, and shut it behind her, and stood with her back against it, looking about her and breathing quite fast with excitement, and wonder, and delight.
She was standing inside the secret garden." ~ The secret Garden, Frances Hodgson Burnett.

xxx Lucy xxx