I’ve been on the West Coast for a much needed, much enjoyed vacation. Here’s a photo I took at Bodega Head on the north coast of California. And below a scrap of poem from the Welsh poet Edward Thomas.

Mother, the root of this little yellow flower
Among the stones has the taste of quinine.
Things are strange to-day on the cliff. The sun shines so bright,
And the grasshopper works at his sewing-machine
So hard. Here’s one on my hand, mother, look;
I lie so still. There’s one on your book.

(From The Child on the Cliffs by Edward Thomas)