Reflecting on the Psalms
This is reminiscent of a swirl of milk being poured from can into jug in the good old days on the farm. A delicious swirl of rich creamy petal.Roses are okay, 'cept for the thorns. And the mould. And the price. And the fact that the ones you buy in the shop never open.However, homegrown roses, homegrown by someone else, are a joy.
incredibly lovely. i would like to bury my face in thatbeauty!
I love your blog. So uplifting. I have one too that you might enjoy...Appreciate your talent....dd
Oops....the blog ishttp://farm3.static.flickr.com/2467/4236275350_6f36ed091c_m.jpg]; )dd
Ya, wrong address...http://www.freewebs.com/thinkyummythoughts/index.htmLittle distracted..sorry.dd
the softness of the color really strikes me.
Julie, the swirl of milk from the milk in the billy that the milkman filled up at the doorstep where the billy and coins to pay for it were waiting each morning. Mum used to put it in glass jugs on the breakfast table.The blackberry has toughened me up for the thorns and as for the black spot ... I can ignore it.Lea, I buried my face into it for you.Daiseedeb, I am glad you are enjoying the blog.Elk, yesterday's photo was entirely inspired by your table.
Lovely rose and lovely photo. I wish I could smell it too.
On our breakfast table with had a ceramic jug with blue hoops. Once the milk had been poured in - in our case, from the bucket that minutes earlier may have been below the cow's udder - Mum would cover the open jug with a little crocheted cover that had small blue beads dangling at intervals around its perimeter. In winter we would have today's milk warm; in summer, yesterday's cool from the fridge.Memories of yesteryear, eh?