Divine Decay

On the whole I dislike decay. My inner perfectionist denies me the pleasure of anything less than pristine, fresh or new. I wish I could be more accepting of senescence, but perhaps this exposes my own fear of growing old. The moment a vase of flowers passes its best I have to be rid of it, so I surprised myself today by gravitating towards a clutch of tiny rambling roses growing along our balcony at Hotel Endsleigh. Whether palest pink, sullied white or sepia, the rose’s blooms are divinely romantic.

Rambling Roses, Hotel Endsleigh, September 2014