
Everyday number 25. “When Continents Expire”, another first line from Emily Dickinson. And when they do expire? There will still, I think be roses, like the first ones that are appearing in our small garden in Madrid at the moment. Two yesterday, three today, by the end of the week there will be eighty or so, all from a rose that begins in the neighbour’s garden. One year I asked them in to our garden to look at the incredible abundance that starts on their side of the fence, but due to the orientation of our garden, produces ten times more roses than they get on their side. I thanked them profusely.
It’s the time of year when abandoned lots fill with wild flowers too, I love to see that, flowers growing out of dirt or rubble and detritus. Nature taking over. Which is why I think: When continents expire, there will still be roses…