I read the opening lines of a poem by Paul Eluard .
"The earth is blue like an orange
Never a mistake the words do not lie..."
People nowadays say "it's surreal" when they mean, no more than extraordinary. But surrealism, as a movement in art and literature, was something rather more curious. The use of nonsense to illuminate sense as silence opens the door to music.
Last year at this time I spotted a solitary wild garlic or ransoms plant growing among some crocuses in The Grove. When I went back I couldn't find it. Someone I suspected had taken it to make a salad. Today to my pleasure I see that it has appeared again. There's no mistaking the spiky allium leaves and the smell on your fingers when you squeeze them. The flowers have not yet shown. I am hoping that they will because it is a pretty plant and would if it spread be a welcome addition to the flora of The Grove.