Beauty at the end

A week or so ago Roland started clearing up the tangles in the postage-stamp sized garden at the front of our house and we took the blooms from the wildest ever rose bush and put them into small jars, glasses etc and scattered them hither and yon throughout the house.

One by one they drooped and wilted and this is the last bloom. Still beautiful, right at the end.

There are several things I could do this weekend, if I choose. I've not decided yet. Which is nice.