'I heard a robin singing, and ever as he sang, methought the voice of angels from heave'n in answer rang'but I suspect the angels were hiding amongst the daffodils and snowdrops. Both photos taken at Sissinghurst aardens Spring, 2007
That's my bit of whimsy for this blog.
I died have a photo cf a bumblebee doinvg his thing amongst he apple blossom but it seems to havr vanisheed into cyberspace. Ah well, c'est la vie!
The point of the vanished bumblebee was so rhay I could tell you how much I like bumblebees. I have often pondered over their name and have come to the cxonclusion that they are so named because they do t3nd to bumble around, falling through the air onto flowers, rather than being graceful like honeybees. They are also solitary cratures who livwe alone in holes in the ground, I believe. I was so excited when I saw my first ever bumblebee in Hyde Park. I got to know a little more about them when we stayed at a bed and breakfast on th Isle of Skye. Our host and hostedss were both naturalists, and we were admiring their garden when I spotted a bumblebee. Oh joy, when mein host said that I could pat him - the bee if I lked. If the bee didn't like, he would wave his back leg at me. In fear of being stung, I gently ran my finger over the bee's furry stiped body. No reaction. I was delighted and bent o stroke sgsin st which stage he waved both back legs at me. 'Careful, cautioned our host. That means he is annoyed. So off I went, absolutely astounded that I had stroked a bee! Up close and personal with the wild things. Some weeks later we were at a B &B in Cornwall and an apiarist joined us aaat breakfast. So my knowledge of bees waas extended by somewhat by the tme I escaped.
Gues what? I was able to go downstairs and sleep in our own bed last night! What a good night's sleep. NIne montha or so since I hads slept there. Ray woke me at 10am rtis morning.
The theme' Where am i from has been suggested.'
I am a MacNicol of Lewis, a sept of Clan McLeodof Dunvegan. I checked out he family seat whilat I was on Skye. Our MacNicol chieftain liveas in Sydney, which takes some of the glamour away, I feel I am froma the dales and moors of Yorkshire. I believe the forbears were weavers who emigrated to Australia when the new machimery threw so many out of work. I am from the dark times of WW2.My parents married in haste and repented at leisure when tomorrow came.
So now I am from the sunburnt country, a land of sweeping plains, of great mountsain ranges and sudden summer rains. (Of which there were none this last summer) We are now into beautiful autumn weather, crisp mornings and nights and still no rain.
So now, I am just me. A mixture of strength and inherited weaknesses. The Scot and English heritage runs deep in my veins. Which no doubt accounts for my kinship with things of the U.K.
My historical roots are deep in Btitish soil. I dona't feel that I have any history here as yet. I am 5th generation Australian, but this is not where I belong.
Nut it is all my children know, so I stay he4e with them.