Sometimes it seems as if all of our Algarvean Daze entries are event driven. I'm not complaining, the occasional spontaneous happening lends itself quite nicely to scribbling down a word or two!
On the other hand, while focusing on the exceptional, often we miss the commonplace but nevertheless worthy passing of time and life. Today, I happily bring myself back to the mundane, the ordinary, the unexceptional cycle.
My garden has begun to bloom, to blossom, to really reward me for the time initially taken to clear the rubble, to dig the holes, to source - often through trial and error - the plants that now have no doubts about what their purpose in life may be.
The colour has crept in without any fanfare. The plants which suffered so badly during the frosts last winter and were pretty much written off as dead, have now begun to sprout the tiniest specks of green. Even the Newbiscus Mauvelous, which we were certain had long since passed it's sell by date, is giving every indication that it wishes to stay and bloom another day.
All of this has happened without my intervention, almost without my knowledge. Now, when I open my bedroom shutters each morning, I am confronted with nature's coat of many colours. And as coats go, it's one that fits very nicely.