A couple of days ago I took this photograph of some of the roses in the garden, attracted by the beauty of the tightly furled buds, their creamy yellow tinged with pink.
Yesterday afternoon I photographed the same roses again, as the roses gradually unfurled and the blush of pink began to fade.
And this morning they have progressed further still to a mass of flowers. I am not greatly enamoured of the roses one gets in vases, with small flowers on long straight stems, but I adore roses in a garden, growing in a glorious profusion of blooms.
Despite the lack of sunshine the bees are having a good time, carefully climbing in and out of the snapdragons , whose nectar must be good for the amount of effort involved in parting the "mouth" of the flower and climbing in and then out again and rifling through the heavy bloom of a many petalled poppy. Many of them are bumbling around the hebe hedge at the front in drunken delight.
The garden and its inhabitants are such a source of delight and refreshment, even on a comparatively cold, grey day as today. Rest assured I am still knitting, gearing up for the current baby boom, I have finished one baby vest and started yesterday on another and have a fresh pair of bootees on the go to fill in odd moments.