"A host of golden..."
Those aren't Wordsworth's daffodils:
they're our daffodils.
Those aren't Wordsworth's daffodils:
they're our daffodils.
posted by Pete Green at
11:07
05 April 2008
About Me
- Name: Pete Green
- Location: Sheffield, United Kingdom
When I'm not doing these blogs I play music.
Previous Posts
- Cars in the valley, muted as rumours about some ot...
- Ah, so you're still here – I like your pale defian...
- This morning sunshine softens the land's hard edge...
- These Easter colours – eggs for breakfast; daffodi...
- Bolts of lightning slice through the sooty sky and...
- Walking at lunchtime through a posh suburb – smell...
- I know they're streetlights but from the top my st...
- An angel's caress: snow through the bathroom windo...
- Racing in the wind, clouds sweep down the valley f...
- The top of the hill: a purple flower blossoms, pai...
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