Last night I cyckled home later than usual, around 9.30-10 pm. The evening was still warm and people were about. It was nice to cyckle, to be both part of and separate, seeing happy faces, hearing happy voices, not quite catching the words.
Every three wore bright lime green, tulips and wood anemones were still in flower and I saw large group of Solomon's-seals with their fat white buds in line. When the road dips, you suddenly dip into colder air; then you find yourself next to a sun-warmed boulder and it feels like Geece.
The flowering birdcherries were everywhere. Their scent filled the air, like a woman wearing enough scent to smell it herself.
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