The trail

On one of my walks, I saw this. A tree with a yellowy-green crown. The combination of colours made me stop and soak its richness. The brightness of the leaves, the darkness of the branches and the intensity with which the sun hits the subject.

And so I went through my photo archive to pick some more images that made me stop for similar reasons.


Everywhere you look now, you can see grass in flower. The contrasting colours stand out. We always played with grass this time of the year when we would grasp a stem of grass and run our fingers from bottom to top. Then we would guess if it is a 'cockerel', 'hen', or a 'chicken' (depending on the size) the other one of us held between their fingers.


Of course most of the time it was a 'chicken' because we tried so hard to create something else that the stem would end up shed to its perfection not leaving any longer part to tear off to describe a cockerel's tail. In other words, the messier, the better chance to create a 'hen' or a 'cockerel'. We would just not understand.

This image was taken at around the same time as the grass image above. I was honestly surprised to see a pair of dandelions at this stage of their life this late into spring. I thought that by now, they would be all gone.

Again, I remembered my childhood when we would weave a princess's crown from dandelions (in their earlier yellow stage). Later, when this weed turned into white balls, we would blow it into our faces. What a fun.

Since I allowed myself to go back through my memory lane, I simply have to include this picture. The cottage where I spent all my summer holidays bears such a resemblance to this close-up of a shed from Kensington Gardens. The way the plunks are joined, the little window, the greenery in front.

It was our grandma who would take us kids and spend two months taking care of us there. We have such fond memories of our cottage which was made possible by the kindness and willingness of our grandma. She was a lady and a grandma with a capital 'G'.



It is funny how far back can some images take us. There is always a trail to be found in our memories. Their interpretation (depending on every each of us) will create a different story to tell, different atmosphere to capture. This is my trail.