Indian Summer

As the end of this wonderful spell of weather begins to show up in the forecasters' isobars, I couldn't resist yet another photo of this corner of my garden. Taken from where I was sitting over an al fresco lunch, it shows the same bed as this blip from the end of June, and the last bloom on the rose I've taken several photos of already this year. That glorious bloom has been out for a week now, and I'm sure the first wind or heavy rain will dislodge its petals, but today its heavy perfume lay in the warm air, overlaying the lighter notes from the abundant sweet pea flowers that now stand taller than I do.

And as the fallout from the Referendum continues to reverberate throughout the news, the thought occurs to me that the Union may be in its last phase, its own Indian summer before the winds of Scottish self-determination blow all its historical ties away.