Strange spring

The beautiful yellow flowers where our Frimousse is buried begin to fade. Flowers, as on the graves of human beings? I hear the charge of anthropomorphism from those who accuse Peter Wohlleben (*) of it… Or more straightforwardly of stupidity… Our Frimousse was better than those people, that’s sure.

The imperial fritillaries, which usually remain in flower during several weeks, are already fading.

The bay tree, which we had brought with us, together with our dear Frimousse, when we moved to live here almost seventeen years ago, has dried. Coincidence? I’ve just pruned it very severely. According to RouXy’s Master we’ll have to wait until August to see if it starts over.

 

(*) The author of The Hidden Life of Trees and The Inner Life of Animals