The Petals of Doom – A photographic essay

Just for fun, today’s blog is a little bit of a photographic essay. First up, we made a valentine’s day card for Mummy yesterday afternoon and picked some lovely flowers from the garden. And Lucas decided he wanted to make a valentine’s day card for me too, ‘because I love you.’ I have put it on the fridge, it is pink and gold and much prettier than it looks in the photo. It’s not the only one I’ve ever had, but it is absolutely and undoubtedly the best.

Pride of place

And now to the garden. It’s not large and, as I’ve said before, as a gardener I’m a work in progress. But things do grow. I have trouble planting them in straight rows and I have a bad habbit of planting the front first, which makes reaching the back difficult. I also have a ‘partner in crime’ who uses the garden for other things and sometimes I catch her leaving the scene of the crime.
 

Who me? I ain't done nuthing.

 

We have a large tree by our front door and it has purple flowers. These fall off and lie on the concrete. They have been renamed the ‘petals of doom’ and if you stand on them, you die, poisoned. This makes getting to the front door a longer process than it would otherwise be. The strongest indication that I have that I am a writer, stronger than 22,000 book sales, is that when I go and get the morning paper from the letterbox, on my own, I still make sure I don’t step on the petals of doom. You can never be too careful.

The petals of doom

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