Maman Cochet- you are about as close to perfection as this rose lover can imagine.
And on a perfect, a-little-bit-dark, early spring, overcast morning- what can a photographer do?
Since there are few roses in bloom, photo choices are easy. The first bloom of Poulsen's Pearl was only two feet away from Maman-- the same color but oh how different.
Pink easily whispered. " t h e m e."
Daughter Anna says the plants are like divas, "I'm ready for my close-up!"
Teas bloom early here, and G. Nabonnand left me breathless on several occasions-- how lucky to finally catch blooms in luscious light.
Now for a restful g r e e n.
Rose de Rescht-- there are no more words.
Roseraie de l'Hay
I have never been able to grasp the meaning of time. I don't believe it exists. I've felt this again and again, when alone and out in nature. On such occasions, time does not exist. Nor does the future exist.