End of day

The climbing roses were on the front of the house long before we came here 12 years ago. They do not get much care, and what they do get is inexpert. Even that has been almost absent this year, in our spring disrupted by tragedy and illness. Undeterred, they have produced as intense and prolific set of flowers as I can remember. I keep forgetting to take a morning photograph, when the sun is on them. Possibly there would have been too much contrast anyway, and this shady evening picture records the power of the colour more faithfully 

The warmth of the evening suddenly felt like proper summer, and the roses completed the effect. A peaceful moment in a world that feels daily less peaceful