... while the dew is still on the roses ...

C Austin Miles' hymn (1913) came to mind this morning ... it is a cold start and the dew lies heavy all over the garden. One of my favourite roses could hardly hold up its head with the weight of water on it.

I come to the garden alone,
while the dew is still on the roses,
and the voice I hear falling on my ear
the Son of God discloses.

And He walks with me, and He talks with me,
and He tells me I am His own;
and the joy we share as we tarry there,
none other has ever known.

It looks as if this will brighten up to be a very pleasant day ...