Killer Roses

Another fine and sunny day. It's seven thirty am and I am up and having breakfast outside. Loads of birds around, a whole bunch of birds of prey (the ones that call kee kee!) looking at the roses at the back of this picture brings to mind (and a smile to the lips) an incident yesterday - the 'killer roses'. Hubby was busy cutting the grass when suddenly - silence! He staggered through the doorway clutching his head looking dazed and managed to blurt out that he had gashed his head open on some roses! I tried to recall which roses I had crossed with a Triffid when he started to head for the bathroom, still clutching his head saying it was all matted and sticky and he needed to shower and wash his head. I decided I had best examine this wound lest he keel over in the shower through loss of blood. Well it was the size of a small freckle, a tiny puncture on the surface of his scalp. He sometimes does have quite an imagination. I had best be careful out there today - I see roses on all sides.


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