The Mona Lisa still resonates when I wake this morning. I went to see her last Friday because I had never taken the trouble before. It is not the picture exactly, but its context, which strikes me. It now has a wall to itself at the end of a long hall full of other Renaissance paintings. A crowd of at least a hunded people seems permanently in attendance. Some hold cameras above their heads others like me just gape at the poorly lit 77cm x 53cm icon. She now has something else to smile about.
Looking for and finding Rosa Moyesii with the help of Google. It is like being introduced to someone you pass in the street but whose name you didn't know. How do you do?
Three white, faintly blushing peonies, push their heads altogether through a single slat in the picket fence, which I pass going up the hill. They must be late flowering because mine have all turned to seed heads. They look like mischievous children dressed up for a wedding.