All the spring bulbs were out and the place was a mass of colour. Red and yellow and pink tulips were everywhere! ‘“A host of golden daffodils, beside the lake, between the trees” … aren’t they just like the ones in the Wordsworth poem?’ Florence Sullivan smiled as they strolled up along by the riverside. Tessa had known her mother would love this outing to one of her favourite places. It was great to see the public gardens as the seasons changed, with their magnificent floral displays and beds created by the gardeners, but probably the best part of the Botanic Gardens was the woodland, filled with trails, that bordered the river. They stopped to watch the swans and their young cygnets on the water and a clutch of young ducklings following their mother further down. Out of the corner of her eye Tessa spotted a little boy on his own coming towards them, his father trying to race after him, as he’d clambered out of his buggy and was stepping dangerously near the water’s edge in his determination to get to the ‘duckies’.
