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.