Unformed field notes

Snippets of life and finding magic in the mundane.

I’m obsessed with taking photos of Cow Parsley. I can’t stop myself. It feels so fleeting and precious, those sacred clouds of white that herald the beginning of summertime. They need to be bottled and kept for greyer days, stored and kept like the love letters of our youth.

The prickling on my head felt like a cheese grater being dragged over my skull in the beginning. Harsh and painful but numb and innocuous all at once. Now I like to think of it as the pointy bits of all the stars in the universe, in all the universes, flowing over my head and filling my brain with life. Dermabrasion for the mind maybe. It still prickles, but it feels good.

The day of a thousand dancing fairies is not quite upon us, but today I see some adventurous and eager beings tentatively taking flight. Testing the air to see how far they’ll go. It’s pollen, or seeds, or something, but that lacks magic and life is too short to let the mundane begin taking hold everywhere.

Everything is so suddenly hidden by green-ness. After wishing and willing away the grey days of winter for what feels like a really long time this year. Houses look like spies, hiding behind the trees. An army of life marching across the valley, filling every gap and crevice. That fresh light green that feels like life itself, fluttering gently atop towering trees. The moors changed from gold and brown to lime and almost yellow. Grey slate roofs slink through the green like barely adult children moving stealthily and gently through their parental home (too late in from a night out), occasionally gathering in pools where a road turns into a housing estate. Spring has well and truly sprung and will last for all of a week, for the gap between the initial leap of spring and the landing in the vast pool of summer seems to get shorter every year.