whatever day of the week it is

 

[8.15. Bucket full of tulips]

I've just realised that the title of yesterday's post was completely wrong. It should have been 'Wednesday morning' because that is when I picked, photographed and wrote about the tulips. My goodness, I'm even worse at days and dates than I thought I was. It's common knowledge that I am the world's worst card sender but I think most people attribute that to not caring or simply forgetting when in fact most of the time I truly do not know what day of the week it is. (However, if I am going to be honest, I think there is too much card-sending and far too many 'Hallmark' occasions to make anyone who isn't dedicated to checking dates and diaries feel guilty/thoughtless most of the time.)

 

[By the back door. Tulip picking kit: Tom's shoes and mop bucket]

Anyway, I have just checked my calendar and apparently it's Thursday today. The 7th, although I could have sworn from the milk carton that it was the 4th. Yet I thought May was coming next week or the week after, and was looking forward to lunch with someone sooner than turns out possible. And goodness knows when Easter is because that's so capricious, I can't keep up and as Easter cards are anathema to me, I don't really need to know in advance (even more so as Creme Eggs  are in the shops from Christmas onwards).

But here are today's flowers, the ones that were picked the day after yesterday's which weren't picked on Tuesday at all. I decided I couldn't hold and pick at the same time now that the tulips are getitng into their stride, so got the mop-bucket out and filled it with water and carried that around with me. I find the mop-bucket enhances the suburban bag-lady look considerably.

 

[T. 'Zurel' in eBay bargain jug (Lovatt's Langley Mill?)]

The tulips, which are about two weeks earlier this year than the previous couple of years (which probably acounts for my confusion. Maybe. Probably not.) are beautiful. All pinks and peaches and pale blush colours that deepen as they mature. For one moment when I am picking them, listening to the birds and looking at the dew sparkle on the grass, time stands still and is quite perfect. Which is all very well and good, but doesn't help when I need to know what day of the week it is.