481. Thoughts Behind a Garden Fence

There’s a pot of geraniums on top of a wooden stool next to the fence, opposite me and they are stupendous.

I should think there are more than fifty stems, each with a bloom that branches out in other smaller blooms. It is red, but there exist various kind of red. The other geraniums I have on the tables are a post office red, but the one in front of me is not so dark but more on the orange side without losing its redness. I like looking at the blooms, their arms stretching out to the welcoming sun.

Ah yes, the background is just as beautiful. There’s a jasmine plant covering the wire netting of the fence and it’s in bloom with all the dangling white flowers bending over the branches like baby snowdrops.

Doggy is still alive, but only just, she’s losing her fur and there are patches of flesh over her body and face – she’s now lapping up fresh water from a steel bowl beneath the jasmine.

Thoughts behind a garden fence are usually humble ones, and tend to keep life in perspective.