The first of the bluebells are out. The way they catch the light – it’s like the first hint of summer, true summer.
The winter clematis thinks so – he’s gone from old boy to old man, strands of his fluffy beard drifting all over the garden.
The first of the bluebells are out. The way they catch the light – it’s like the first hint of summer, true summer.
The winter clematis thinks so – he’s gone from old boy to old man, strands of his fluffy beard drifting all over the garden.
© 2024 … and roses too.