I had a beautiful pot of hyacinths given to me at Christmas. They arrived with just a bit of large, swelling bud peaking from each of the leaf clusters. Sitting in a light spot on the dining room window sill, and after only a few days, they have burst forth in a glorious profusion of blue and purple tinged flower heads. Rebirth from papery, wizened bulbs.
The flowers are filling the room with their perfume – they had to be painted! Pity I can’t some how convey the wonderful scent of them . . .
IF OF THY MORTAL GOODS thou art bereft,
And from thy slender store two loaves alone to thee are left,
Sell one, and with the dole
Buy hyacinths to feed thy soul