Despite the cold weather, there are still red roses blooming in the garden. But today when I looked out, there was frost on their petals. Somehow the sight of frost on the roses was poignant.
Fractions of a second apart
I've been watching some of the Winter Olympics on TV and marvelling at the way that the top competitors all seem to achieve times...
Reminds one of Louis Macneice’s poem ‘Snow’, which begins:
The room was suddenly rich and the great bay-window was
Spawning snow and pink roses against it
Soundlessly collateral and incompatible;
World is suddener than we fancy it.
Here in Central Finland the roses disappeared weeks ago. Your image and the poem make me home-sick for England …
How lovely. I had read that poem long ago, but had forgotten all about it, and it’s great to be reminded. Thank you.