Roses are red...

...violets are blue...

I am overwhelmed, 

and would like to thank YOU!

OK, perhaps that is not exactly how the original poem goes. But after having asked you a general question in my last blog post about where you as readers draw the line for what is considered boasting or just considered sharing one's joy, I realised it may have sounded as if I was fishing for compliments... and I am overwhelmed with your kind and generous response! 

I have no words to describe how you filled me with both personal and "selfish" joy and moved me so much with your kind words, but also with a more general delight at how many wonderful, generous and positive ladies (and some men, yes, I know you are there too) inhabit the blog world and spread your love and light in a way that makes this world a wonderful place to be! OK, I know, some of you may feel I am going a little over the top here, but you know what... so be it. You moved me. Thank you!

One of my favourite times of the year has always been Midsummer, as this is a flower-packed and joyful (for most), festive season in my native Sweden. Since my boys started school, I can no longer "nip over" to Sweden to dance the Midsummer night away with the traditional floral wreath in my hair, and I do confess to missing that a great deal! 

So what to do? Well, with the rain - oh, the never-ever-ever ending rain? - keeping us captive, I did not attempt to copy the outdoor Midsummer traditions of my heritage, but modestly make a token rose wreath with some deep cerise (they look very red here) beauties from the garden. Some bolted lettuce made a nice companion in a small cup, and my lovely old (and rusty - hooray!) iron - a lovely gift from a dear friend - lent itself to an impromptu vase.

... and from these dark photos (taken in the middle of the day, but with the skies full of gloom and rainy doom), I think we need a quick look at some other rosy photos from some recent walks nearby...

Some lovely roses in front of the folly here in Corsham. Yes, this may look like an ancient ruin, but is the result of the land owners deciding in 1797 that they fancied a "Medieval" wall in their garden ( it does actually  contain some Medieval stone work)... Well, I suppose... why not? 

At the end of a row of  Weavers' cottages here in town, there is a lanky red rose bush offering its modest few branches of petal glory to passers-by. I love the shapes and mix of materials in view here. The stunning old stone walls, both the curved one and the house itself, the small roof tiles also bearing witness of their age, the shaped, fluffy and round green topiary, the small window panes - again, indicating that this is an old, old house -, it all just works so beautifully together, I think.

With my friends here from Sweden visiting for a week, you will not be surprised to hear that I "forced" them to go for a few scenic walks with me, one of which took us past this glorious house, which rendered appropriate and expected gasps of delight and accompanying camera clicks from my walking companions.

... and I doubt you will be surprised to hear that I let out a similar gasp of joy at the sight of... 

yes, you got it, a RUSTY wheelbarrow with FLOWERS planted inside. 

After all the walking and talking (yes, no surprise there either, lots of talking was involved!)...

... this chair looked particularly appealing for a nice rest 

just by a weeping willow, one of my favourite trees...

And last, but not least, the youngest of our guests (here with his father). Three months old and with smiles that could melt the entire North Pole in one go. And yes, very kissable feet!

Thank you, once again, for all your incredibly kind words after my last post, 

and for stopping by my little corner of the blog universe. 

I wish you a rose-tinted week!

Helena

Oh, and a small PS to the anonymous reader who mentioned that I should have written "primp", not "pimp" in my last post. I was trying to be a little playful with words and use "pimp" in the informal way it has been used more and more recently, as described in Wikipedia: "The verb "pimping" came up in the early 17th century. In the first years of the 21st century, a new meaning of the word has emerged in the form of a transitive verb pimp, which means "to decorate" or "to gussy up" (compare primp, especially in Scottish usage). This new definition was made popular by Pimp My Ride, an MTV television show. Although this new definition paid homage to hip-hop culture and its connection to street culture, it has now entered common, even mainstream commercial, use."