|The oldest Rose in my garden it was grown from|
a cutting but not by me, for I don't have green fingers.
|A compote of blooms at the southern entrance.|
I rarely prune unless they obstruct me !
|A mass of Hawthorn blossom behind the studio is grounded by Lilac|
|She is delicate, pink and runs wild. Her fragrance|
though has a much lower note than the old Rose!
|Just as the Lilac grounds the Hawthorn above so too does|
a sneaky white flower behind ground the Lilac.