Once upon a time I lived in a fabby old house, an old post office to be exact. In the garden were some dilapidated sheds, one for coal, one for garden implements and one, I can’t remember what and well, it doesn’t matter. At the back of the sheds there was a small flower bed and then a phone box (red of course) and a post box, also red. What I loved though, was the colour of the old stained wood, darkish brown, very dark brown once but now faded like a lovely watercolour (which is what it was as Scotland is wet). In that bed grew these stalwart soldiers, tall upright stems of vibrant purple foxgloves. Normally I can take or leave the foxglove but up against this dark faded wood of the shed - it was so exquisite, the contrast of colour, the verticals of the wood and flowers. I tried numerous times to capture what I was seeing, with the camera. I never managed to. I stopped people, neighbours and the like and asked them, “don’t you think it’s gorgeous,” and of course they humoured their crazy neighbour but really, it was lovely . This is lovely too.
