They say it’s not the destination but the journey.
I agree .
These flowers are never at my destination
(I am usually cycling to the shop or a cafe or even a pub)
but along my way.
which is why a lot of the time,
it takes me a long time
to get to where I originally set out for.
because I constantly
get lost among summer flowers instead.
Once I tried to find out how many flowering species existed in the west of Ireland
but I couldn’t get a straight answer.
Maybe what is more important than the knowing of numbers and names
is the stopping and getting off the yellow bicycle.
and really truly SEEING them
(including the odd looking ones)
Of all flowers of the summer, the harebell is my love.
I think you will have guessed that by now.
I have spent hours in their company.
I Have even written a poem in honor of them.
Look at you
Mo Spalpeen* Mo Storeen*
just a little slip of a thing
blue bonnet buffered by the breeze,
translucent as though made from fairies wings
I glimpse the sunlight through your skin.
your strong in spite of it
standing your ground you nod at northwest gales
And even when white horses whip the darkened sea
you don’t give in
but toss your head and look the other way
We could learn a lesson from you A ghra Mo chroi*.
*Mo spalpeen: My little rascal.
*Mo Storeen: My Little Love.
* A ghra mo chroi : love of my heart.
(sometimes I make flower foot prints in the sand)