Flowers on Valentine's Day

Not for me, but from me.  This beautiful yellow rose is part of a bouquet I gave Mum today to cheer her up and wish her well.  She sent a text while I was getting ready at my flat this morning to say she'd woken up with a cold, and not to worry about coming to see her this weekend.  But I couldn't bear to think of her feeling unwell and being on her own, so I've come anyway and will stay over until tomorrow afternoon.  I cooked pancakes for us today as it's nearly Shrove Tuesday - not a patch on the ones Dad used to make, which were light and fluffy and done to perfection.  We're both still up and down after losing him.  Mum puts on a brave face, but I know it's very hard for her to be without him by her side.  They were inseparable for sixty-seven years and as much in love at the end as they were at the beginning - in fact, I would say they were probably even more in love at the end.  And somehow it's fitting that I should remember the pure romance of their relationship on Valentine's Day.


PS:  The photo looks better in the large view, as it's set off nicely against the black background of that instead of the white here