Tag Archives: seeds
Feathery tendrils gently cup the nut-brown seeds. The bearded remnants of summer fruits, filling the hedgerow with their snowy whiteness. Soon, they will fly off to find more fertile ground, ready to spring up renewed.
Like snowflakes, they drift across the motorway. Most land, impotent, on the tarmac; but some make it to the other side. The cycle of life continues.
We chop up its prickly branches to lay across a bed of freshly sown seeds. Although no longer in its Christmas finery, it can still help new life to arrive in peace.
She blows at it in that small child way. Lips pursed forward, air rushing out in a cloud of spittle. Telling the time in one big blow, sending the seeds fluttering damply to the ground.