That B&W of the roses is SO glorious. I definitely remember the heady scented roses of my childhood, and now have my own fragrant rosebush in my garden. I wonder if my son will have that same nostalgia when he is grown and flown.
Bloody hell, I haven’t made a den for years. It fascinates me that when walking down a street a slight waft from wherever can take you back decades. Smells are like a Tardis.
Like a TARDIS indeed. We used to love making dens. It occurs to me now that possibly my beginnings as a photographer may well have been formed staring up at the light coming through the bedsheet we'd rigged up as a roof and being fascinated by the change to the light.
That B&W of the roses is SO glorious. I definitely remember the heady scented roses of my childhood, and now have my own fragrant rosebush in my garden. I wonder if my son will have that same nostalgia when he is grown and flown.
Thanks Kirstie. I hope our little ones do remember the same (although Bessie hasn’t recovered her sense of smell since having Covid!). x
Beautiful. Words and images. Especially the delicate silken swirl of petaled hues.
Thank you so much, Frances.
Bloody hell, I haven’t made a den for years. It fascinates me that when walking down a street a slight waft from wherever can take you back decades. Smells are like a Tardis.
Like a TARDIS indeed. We used to love making dens. It occurs to me now that possibly my beginnings as a photographer may well have been formed staring up at the light coming through the bedsheet we'd rigged up as a roof and being fascinated by the change to the light.
It was definitely that.
Brilliant as ever Matt
Thanks so much, Christine. x