The West Coast is a-bloom.
Even the graveyard at Churchaven - normally a sandy, arid place - is covered in lacy flowers.
We walked the marshes. I was hoping to find a Starfish Iris and I did. The plant I'd seen once before has multiplied. The strange flowers have a deep, smoky vanilla perfume.
We were caught in a downpour and it was worth it, for the smell of a fresh, salty marsh.
The air is filled with birdsong and wing beats.
It's not unusual to see the tall man lying on his stomach on the ground, or with his head in a bush. He has introduced me to a different universe...
A world where there is so much diversity,
that surely colour doesn't matter.
Perhaps it's more about size - to eat, or be eaten.
There is the hell-bent frenzy for pollen and nectar.
Some lonely contemplation.
Contortion and hairy gatherings...
... and a whole lot of fooling around.
It is heaven, on earth.
