A Rambler Or A Climber Be?
Today I sat across from a man whom I had heard was a notorious gossip (in itself gossip). I drank in my coffee, and the sights, under cover of my book.
We sat, in un-acknowledged and uneasy alliance with the wonderful sunshine, following three days of rain. After some time, I realised that the man was suffering from some sort of stress – as he could be heard to be muttering out loud.. having what seemed to be several ongoing conversations with himself, or with imagined companions. When he got up and left, he was still muttering till he was lost to sight or sound.
It left me very sad, and with – previously withheld – compassion for him. Who hasn’t had to deal with those ‘voices’ in your head from time to time? Appearances are not the best indication of what a person may be going through.
Home again .. and, when all else fails.. there are always roses.
Love is like a red, red rose?
When it’s not pink, or peach or yellow or mauve, or white. I’m not fussy. Though if I could only ever see one more rose – I’d choose yellow.
Here, for no other purpose than that they are beautiful, are some of the roses growing in the garden at Larglea.
It’s an absolute delight to me that these ethereal and abundant flowers are getting the audience they deserve – in the guests staying here throughout this glorious summer.
When photographing a rose – I care nothing for it’s ability to climb; just as I care not for it in humans – I care only for the quality of serene stillness a rose seems to bring to any given moment.
At least a rose doesn’t have to think “Should I”..
.. A Rambler Or A Climber Be?