Every picture tells a story

My Mum would often say : “ Oof ! Every picture tells a story ! “ as she heaved herself out of a chair, stiff after sitting still for a long time. It was a phrase from an advert that was around when she was younger, for a product that relieved rheumatic-type pains - for years I thought it was Fynnon Salt, but it’s actually Doan’s Pills.
It was a phrase I stopped hearing eventually, when a long-term degenerative disease, diagnosed when she was only forty-four,robbed her of the power to stand.
The story told by today’s photo of two faded miniature roses, is of the way I feel today, which had she seen it would have been Mum’s ninety-fifth birthday. Over the past couple of months a combination of cold weather, family illness, and half a dozen significant sad anniversaries have made me feel as washed out as this colour.
Still, bumblebees are back and I expect the sun’ll come out tomorrow.