Three White Flowers

I'm probably not as committed to photographing groups of three as my friend Peter but I do like to capture them when they stray into the compass of my lens.

These flowers, which may or may not be daisies, were growing on the top of the battlements of Skenfrith Castle, a derelict fortification in Monmouthshire. I took them with a long lens while lying on the grass on my back; it was a pleasant position to be in and very conducive to a short nap. However a party of school children rendered the aural landscape unsuitable for such an activity (or lack of it).

I've got the laptop outside on the decking this evening. It's half past nine but still light and cool after a torrid day. The air is scented by roses and honeysuckle. In a while a bat will pay us its daily visit. There is very little sound, just the competing songs of thrush and blackbird, a cooing dove in the far distance and the horn and muted roar of a train from London wending its way up the Vale to Worcester.

An empty bottle of New Zealand Sauvignan Blanc sits on the table, a crisp, fruity little number, much enjoyed by us both. Pixie has been polishing up a leather bag she bought today so we briefly had the intoxicating smell of polish added to the mix. I think evenings are all about scent. And reflection.