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.
‘Con accuratezza’
Tomorrow I'm playing a solo recital at the Lammermuir Festival, a lovely festival which takes place in various locations, sacred and...
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.