The iris and the roses are blooming, the last of the iris mingling with the late arriving divas of the garden. It rained three days in a row this week. My mother predicted doom, the rain would ruin the blooms. It did in fact scatter the peonies, each once full flower scattered across the lawn; handfuls of discarded swan feathers. But the iris stand tall, becoming velvet display cushions for gemstones more glorious than any in the jeweler's case.
There are a hundred (literally) images waiting for me to finish working on them. But it was late and my eyes were heavy. So I will leave you with a taste, friends. A humble offering. The adornment of angels. The handiwork of the Divine Artist.
(Sorry if this is hitting your RSS feed multiple times, I figured out how to make the images display how I wanted. Gimp to the rescue.)
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