I suddenly got this tune from my childhood into my head - it's Tulips from Amsterdam sung, if I recall correctly, by Max Bygraves ( just checked it was Max Bygraves). And it led me to reflect on what spring means to me. I think it's the flowers first and foremost, to begin with the aconites and snowdrops, followed by the daffodils and all the flowering trees that have burst on to the scene in the last week.

Even the wild flowers have got going

The second big thing that heralds spring for us is the opening of our tiny place on the Isle of Wight. The first trip of the season is always exciting, checking if there have been any cliff falls and if our favourite shops (especially the fishmonger) are still there. The cliff falls were fairly minor (given the weather we've had) although they were rebuilding some of the beach huts that had been damaged by the storms.

After doing all the chores we went for a drive round - first stop Freshwater Bay where there was a stiff breeze with spray catching the sun over the sea wall

and there was a family having fun laughing at grandpa who was jumping in and out of the waves in his dhoti

Next it was off to Totland where we noticed that this sky above the land was much bluer than the sky above the sea, which was still a bit misty

and there was a fabulous view of the evening sun on the old lifeboat house with the gulls wheeling around it

It was good to be back and breathe in the spring sea air! And just in case you are way too young to have heard this

Well I do really, it's more that it doesn't inspire me, it doesn't make my soul sing. Perhaps to some extent it's a case of familiarity breeding contempt. I am lucky enough to live somewhere where there's lots of pretty, thatched cottages, quaint streets etc. I find I have very little interest in taking photos of them.

Last week I visited Hilliers gardens near Romsey. Sir Harold Hillier was one of those adventurous types who headed for foreign climes to collect new plants and bring them back to the UK. The gardens were looking splendid, absolutely at their spring best, very pretty in fact. The star attraction was the magnolia avenue in glorious full bloom, very pretty indeed, so pretty I took a photo, but I don't like it. The magnolias became a blur of pink and white prettiness and from a distance you can't see the individual blooms (this may just say something about my lack of skill as a photographer of course).

What drew my attention instead was the interaction between the magnolias and the sculptures in the garden, or the white of the magnolia and the intense blue of the sky, the colours, textures and contrasts that capture the essence of the blossom for me. This is what makes my soul sing.

After the gardens I went into Romsey to have a look round. Plenty of pretty to be seen here, houses gardens etc. My eye was drawn to the abbey. Difficult to take a good photo of the outside, couldn't get the perspective, but inside was lovely. So many little details, shafts of sunlight coming through the windows and landing on different objects or parts of the building, but you couldn't call it pretty, glorious is more the word that springs to mind.

If its spring again, birds sing again ..........

I Don't Like Pretty!