Big bees circle in the mansion house. Furry black and yellow. Four or five can be seen at eye level in the bare, light rooms. They have perfectly rounded wings. I stand on the dusty floorboards and wonder at these larger than life, exquisite insects.
I look down and see I am holding a copper sphere. It is in two halves like an Easter egg. The red metallic colour rubs away in my hands.
The coals in the fireplace of the cold cheerless room have become grey ash. The wooden handled brush is coated with pale paint flaking. I brush out plenty of the soft ash. To my surprise there are buried coals which glow warm. I put on more coals and stoke the fire. With sharp strong feather tips, red and orange flames rise high and vigorous from the fire black.
A single flower grows in the roadside woods at Five Acres in the Forest of Dean. A creamy ivory colour, the flower is a perfect beauty. She is called a Raspberry Rose because of the raspberry like fruits growing from her fluted stalk of fine celery. Her petals are domed, soft and pearly.