Smelling the roses

Smelling of roses or..

I love seeing hints of what the people who lived in this home before us were like and one of those is the amazing bursts of colour that emerge almost from nowhere in spring.

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One of the few signs of impracticality in this humble 4 room, rammed earth cottage, is when spring comes and it is suddenly surrounded by flowers, the bursts of colour, starting with arum lilies, and followed by red, pink and yellow roses and irises they survive without tending or water and without exception colour shaded cool seating areas providing a naturally meditative space.

Roses and lilies also bloom next to old washing stones by the stream, so, yes it seems that they were hardworking peasant folk living hand to mouth under a dictatorship but they also enjoyed flowers and probably a good old gossip whilst they scrubbed their clothes clean.

In a less fragrant side note, Harry has just pointed out that it would be nicer if we could smell the roses over the chicken poo odour that instead pervades the air. He is right, those hens do leave unwelcome gifts on the stone terrace when they stop by. Never one to miss the moment, I’ve handed him a broom.

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