Helen Plowman via facebook

Day 16 story time, again

Babs arrived this morning with a friend. I wasn’t expecting her, we only usually keep in touch at Christmas time, but here she was again in my home.
Lively and likeable, a completely joyous person, her sun shone through, so pleased was I, that she’d dropped by.
And her friend a different kettle of fish but I could see how they got along.
Demure, with a softness but not fragile. She reminded me of an English rose, those blush pink cheeks. But I’m told she is from exotic climbs and takes none too kindly to sharp spring frosts. So we steer clear of the weather report forecasting an imminent arctic blast. I fear this will send her packing or at the very least make her curl up and hibernate.
I can’t linger long, I’m off out but Babs and her friend are welcome to stay a while, I’ll see them later when I return and introduce them to my husband. We’ll then find a home for them perhaps on the bookcase, for my friend Babs has sent a postcard, thanking me for Christmas gifts, depicting a camellia japonica – my friend after all is a horticulturist.