More holly. . . .

I treated myself to a book of Seamus Heaney poetry this week and copied this to share with you.

The following is so evocative of my forays into the fields to collect holly for Christmas. Having eyed up weeks in advance where the most berried bushes are located, I arrive, secateurs in hand, only to find the birds have stripped the branches. The bits with berries now being just out of easy reach and have to be fought for to secure. Eventually, having collected enough I can bundle it up to bring home my hands ” all jags”. It always seems to be a wet day I have chosen to go. But I cannot cut it to far in advance of Christmas as I want it looking gleaming and fresh. Like “smashed bottle glass” is a wonderful description- it is just that sort of effect when you are trying watercolour paint holly leaves.

I guess I will look at holly cutting this year the weekend prior to the Christmas holiday and the weather forecast is not good . .

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