Maltesers and Mrs Florrick

A few leisurely household chores, hung the washing outside, painted a stool white (only got a tiny bit of white paint on my cardigan…) then I took a walk round the neighbourhood. I spotted a lovely garden yesterday, and stopped at it again, in the sun. I was hanging over the fence, grunting and groaning, with the distinct possibility of actually getting stuck. Eventually I went in and asked if I could take some photos (new camera … etc). I didn’t want to risk them looking out their lounge window and seeing this strange person crawling about in their flower beds. Or worse - impaled on their fence!

A big box of Maltesers fell into my pocket when I was in the shop, so I hot footed it back home for an afternoon with the old The Good Wife episodes. Looking back over Series One and Two, lots of things have fallen into place, as I’d discovered it in Series Three or maybe Season Four. Good escapism. No grisly murders or gratuitous violence and sex, everybody’s clever and gorgeous and well dressed. And nobody mumbles.

So, it’s poppy buds with bonus aphid today. SOOC. Or, more technically, NF, according to CBLinks’ scale, which I am sure will soon be the standard in photographic circles.