It’s autumn, and the hedgerows are bright with berries. But there are other flashes of red, too, competing with the bryony, hips and haws.
This feathery tangle is Robin’s pincushion, which I found on the wild roses around the racecourse.
Continue reading “ruffled feathers”
It’s a bank holiday here in the UK, which means that – by my own rules- I should have written a blog post today. Sadly, though, I haven’t been feeling very inspired.
Rather than let myself down completely, I decided to look for a photograph to post.
Although, of course one photo isn’t enough, as I also need a header image. So, having found a rather lovely flame-coloured rose in full bloom, I had to find another picture to accompany it. The distant cousin – probably a dog rose though perhaps a sweet briar – seemed a reasonable choice, particularly as both pictures were taken within the last week.
Continue reading “the same but different”
The roses in the neighbour’s garden are bright despite the weather, which has not been kind to them this summer. There’s been far too much rain and wind after the recent short but intense heatwave.
Today it’s actually been so windy that the rain seemed to dry almost before it reached the ground. Yes, there has also been some sunshine, but it comes and goes and can’t be depended on.
Continue reading “old roses”
Wednesday was the 21st of June – the solstice and the start of summer. Which means today is the 24th – Midsummer’s Day and as good a time as any to post more photos of roses.
Continue reading “a rose is a rose is a rose”
I don’t know when I first heard the saying “God gave us memory so that we might have roses in December”**, but it made sense to me as I was brought up in Britain and grew up thinking of the rose as the perfect symbol of English summer.
Later, I realised that I was wrong to think of the flower as typically English: I’ve seen the Rose Parade in Pasadena and elsewhere on the blog I’ve pondered the character of Spanish roses. But I still tend to associate roses with better weather.
That said, I took the above photo earlier this week.
True, the blooms are a little the worse for wear – if I was remembering a rose, I think I’d picture one in rather better condition. Frankly, though, I don’t think they should have been there at all.
** The quote is attributed to J M Barrie, though when he used it in a rectorial address in 1922 he seems to have expected his audience to be familiar with it.