The rowan round the corner

It was not the rousing experience I had anticipated. So, I have purchased a miniature rowan who is three years old to... er... bonsai. Which I need to think about as that might be cruel.

There really is no room in the garden. Goodness knows what I will do with the six ebullient poplar saplings... or indeed the tiny oak seedling.

That's all for another day. I have been enjoying the scent of jasmine, which has replaced the honeysuckle which replaced the lily-of-the-valley which replaced the lilac.

And I have been amazed by the roses! Never has my red rose had so many blooms and this peachy one has been exceptional this year. Before, I think the most I had was about two from her.

Nearly every evening I sit at the back of the garden for maybe fifteen maybe forty minutes. Sometimes just sitting. Sometimes reading or writing. Last night, I wrote this:

In fragments,

realisation falls upon me -

breeze-blown cherry blossoms -

a petal-piece puzzle -

all pattern's lost.

Somewhere -

beneath my thinking -

wisdom's weavings held a meaning -

my tapestry of life -

now miscarried into mind.