Survivors

Today was dreich, photos didn't suggest themselves. They don't, really, on trips to the supermarket, especially not our local Morrison's which was once more replicating the Soviet shopping experience. But I mustn't get on to a pet rant; I merely realise that the shop visit was my only outing of the day.

So why Survivors? Well, for a start that rose is the last of the season; it had just begun to flower before the rain arrived to blight today and I decided to enjoy it indoors rather than watch it destroyed in the garden. The leaves are the last remaining on the montbretia, as is the dead flower head. And the vase in which they sit is in fact a favourite wine glass of the handleless, hard-to-knock-over variety that sadly sustained a chip in the rim. No longer something I'd be happy to drink from, but handy for a small bunch of whatever. Hence survivors. 

I thought it was quite cool ...