Snell Publishers

Independent e-publishers of fantasy, self-help and travel poetry

Crediton Flower Festival

Have you ever been to a flower festival? You don’t know what you are missing. Especially if you don’t know what it is. If you love flowers, seeing them set in the most sumptuous of surroundings (very old churches of red sandstone, stained glass windows, brass engravings, carved stone statues), all of which are the permanent cast of characters, then in Spring added to this is the impermanence of flowers in large arrangements all to a theme, telling a story. 

This year the theme is poetry (how apt!), and at the start is a marvellous bright pink arrangement around the font of gerbera daisies. Then we have the traditional poets. My favourite poem was John Masefield’s, ‘I Must Go Down to the Sea Again’ and illustrating this poem in flowers are delphiniums and baby’s breath (gypsophlia). Imagine an illustration for the verbal picture of the sea and longing-ness made in the impermanent form of flowers, that only last a week. 

So much care, so much love poured out onto something that will only last a few days. But people come by the coach load from all over Devon, especially North Devon and then afterwards eat soup, quiche and most of all, strawberries, meringues and clotted cream, lit by a light from above in the St Boniface centre. We are serenaded by a piano player (the same one as last year), who plays lyrical, gentle pieces to no one who listens. The five senses are full.

Some poems about flowers:

GRANNY BONNETS AND PANSIES

A bonding
Between gardens
And people -
One garden coterminous
With other gardens,
All one
And the gifting of plants,
Reciprocity,
Between gardens
And gardeners,
A tie of the heart
Made concrete in the world,
The best
The World has to offer.
The most beautiful
Is the most useless.

THE EARTH’S BOUNTY
Peony pots,
Rhododendron blossoms,
Falling to earth,
Verdant riches
Laying in the grass
For all to take.

WILD ROSE AND BOUGAINVILLEA

Flowers
To break your heart
And why?
The languid
Casualness of their beauty,
Not the passion
Of the bougainvillea
Of India,
But the delicacy of
The wild rose.

NATURE EMULATING REVLON

Roses the colour of lipstick
And summer frocks to dream in
Hang over the garden wall,
Full, resplendent, wasteful,
Not designed for usefulness,
Just adorning.

These are  from ‘Devonheart’, my forthcoming book: The purpose of ‘Devon Heart’ is to share with others the love of Devon, the land, the people who live there and their way of life. These are written to express a love of place that remains no matter where one is. They demonstrate that Devon is a home to return to no matter where one wanders and that it has the power to beckon one home. The book’s eight sections are:

MOOR
VILLAGES AND TOWNS
SEA
CHURCH AND CASTLE
ESTUARY
SEASONS
A DEVON WAY OF LIFE
LEAVING DEVON

 - all the ways in which the love of Devon manifests, resulting in a ‘Devon Heart.’