July 2012

I’m not sure if it’s a good year or a bad year for bees, the wet must be bad, but the sheer volume of flowers has to be a good thing…

Full drunk on nectar
bees fumble in foxglove doors
like errant husbands!



The weather’s been abysmal for beach-time, lawn-mowing and clothes-drying, but the floristic abundance is glorious…

by heady flower-meadows,
Nectar-drunk as bees.



On the ferry to Árann, or Inis Mór, the wake hypnotic in the sunlight…

Playing with rainbows,
the wake’s foaming arrowhead
pushes the boat home.



It’s been a bumper year for fox gloves, growing six feet tall and providing much-needed sustenance for hungry bees, as well as  much-needed aesthetic sustenance for hungry humans in a summer of discontent.

Bees bungy-jumping
on heavy-headed flowers.
Summer Olympics.


Burly bumble bees
squeeze, droning, down pink tunnels.
Fox glove spelunking.