Thursday, February 28, 2013

Wildflowers at the end of February in Cyprus


Despite my friend Sheila being away for a few weeks, I've managed to go for early morning walks a few times. This week, the weather has been glorious - wall-to-wall sunshine, and daytime temperatures up to 22-23C in the shade. However, first thing in the morning it's still only about 10-12C, which is ideal for a brisk walk in the fresh air.

On Tuesday I was feeling a bit tired, so decided to take it slowly, and enjoy the scenery. This winter has been so mild that the wildflowers seem to be rather ahead of where they usually are. It's March when everywhere seems t turn yellow, but there are distinct hints of it already:


I don't know what most of the flowers are called. I'm not sure I even care - the names are usually long and undescriptive. I prefer to enjoy the beauty and colour, as they grow in proliferation in this relatively untouched environment.

These small photos don't really show much detail, but if you click any of them, a larger one should appear. There were these white flowers, with yellow ones in front:


A big bush of this yellow one, which some vague memory of the past tells me might be (of all dull and undescriptive names, one the most uninspiring) broom:


There were single pale purple plants in random places amongst the greenery, rather hard to capture on camera: 


And thousands of buds: these yellow wildflowers, which I think are glorious, just waiting to open: 


Here are some more of them at the base of a tree:


A bit of sunshine caught yet more yellow plants growing by the side of the path: 


And I liked these pale pinkish ones, standing strongly, on stalks that look as if they would not stay upright for long: 


As I walked, stopping every so often to take pictures, a line of a hymn popped into my mind:

When through the woods and forest glades I wander,
And hear the birds sing sweetly in the trees.... 

At that precise moment, perhaps triggered by my subconscious, I became aware that there were, indeed, birds singing. The flamingoes have not made any noise during my last few walks - there haven't even been many of them around, and I wouldn't call their chatter 'sweet'. But somehow, I had not really thought about  other birds, evidently building their nests or bringing up their babies in the trees.

Then sings my soul, my Saviour, God, to thee:
How great thou art, how great thou art!

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