‘I’m trying to take a photo of this little flower, but it’s hanging its head down.’
‘Does this help, Gran?’ he said, slipping his little hand under the flower and turning it upwards.
‘That’s perfect, thank you.’
‘What’s it called, Gran?’
‘It’s a Hellebore and it’s meant to flower in winter’.
‘But it’s summer, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, it is.’
‘It’s all mixed up, Gran’.
‘Yes, dear, so am I.’
‘Can we take a photo of this one? It’s hanging its head down too.’
‘That’s a lovely idea, thank you.’
There’s no Six on Saturday from me today. There wasn’t a single day where I was able to take the camera into the garden. I could tell you of each day; the wind, the rain, and the days when I had to be elsewhere, but it won’t make any difference. No photos this week.
Instead, I thought you might like to see these two flowers and the sweet memory that goes along with them. The little hand belongs to our youngest grandson, now 6 years old, and full of wisdom. The shots were taken a few weeks ago, so you can judge just how early that pretty hellebore is. The plant has four flowers on it now. How strange.
I won’t be joining you next week, as one of our grandsons is coming to visit from the US. Now seventeen, this will be his second independent journey across the pond to see us. I hope he manages to navigate Dublin Airport, I don’t think he’s been through that one, even with his older brother & parents.
Have a lovely weekend!
Catherine x
Notes From My Garden 