Yesterday it rained and a scrappy old rose that persists in the tropical bed in the yard put on quite the show against the water butt. I am not quite sure why we allow the rose to continue. A misplaced belief that it marks the spot where someone unknown, a previous owner of this house, had buried a beloved pet. It is a very old gnarly thing that has survived against the odds. It blooms throughout the summer, but not really in a meaningful way. The buds are neat and a fresh bloom can be beautiful, as this one is. But within a day the flower will open fully and fall apart. Just looking tatty and ugly.

The bush is mostly hidden beneath ferns. Out of sight and mind. Apart from yesterday when this perfectly pink bloom properly perked up a wet summer morning .