We have a pretty little panel of stained glass that hangs in the kitchen window. This morning, before the blind was lifted, the early sun was shining through and lighting up the engine house.

There’s food for thought in this poem, The Ideal by James Fenton and I like it.

This is where I came from.
I passed this way.
This should not be shameful
or hard to say.

A self is a self.
It is not a screen.
A person should respect
what he has been.

This is my past
which I shall not discard.
This is the ideal.
This is hard.

Our lovely neighbour Sue came in for supper tonight and shared a photo of some remarkably beautiful flowers sent to her from Heligan in condolence and in the memory of her very special husband, Bill,  who died recently and for whom I posted on 14th April.

Sue’s flowers from the staff at The Lost Gardens of Heligan