Woke with my blood sugar right on the danger zone so with this post my goal is purely self centred. To distract myself from my fear and grief by concentrating on objects of beauty.
Such as the first rose that has bloomed in my garden. Usually, its Darcey Bussell. She flowered first in my old garden and I fell for her in an instant. She is robust and elegant, as one might expect for a rose named for one of the best ballet dancers in recent memory.
This year the debut honour goes to Winchester Cathedral. A sport from another of Austin’s great roses, Mary Rose, Winchester is white. While Austin says there are only occasional tinges of pink, I find it does fairly regularly.
Of the roses that are right behind Winchester, Homere has its sepals peeled back and should probably unfurl tomorrow, and my potted Mr Lincoln will be next. So it’s a blend of reds and whites that grace the first flush this year. Red for blood, and white for hope.
I am struggling with hope right now. It feels very temperamental, a bit like my blood sugar really. Sometime high, sometimes low, and often with no real connection to external circumstances. I just wish the hope lows were shorter than the highs, and that the blood sugars were the exact opposite.
Keep on hoping, hey?