Days Of Wine And Roses.

They are not long, the weeping and the laughter,
Love and desire and hate:
I think they have no portion in us after
We pass the gate.
They are not long, the days of wine and roses:
Out of a misty dream
Our path emerges for a while, then closes
Within a dream.

Ernest Dowson

Summer - in my vision always arriving as a flamboyant knight - finally regained seasonal reign over the cold North, taking the throne with all the splendor of colours and light, sunshine and fragrance.

The golden time of the year has begun; it will be fleeting and evasive at best, teasing us with few magnificent days of sun and blue skies, only to bestow upon us rain and cold as soon as we let our guard down. Still, these are the days of the elusive summer, which has been anticipated and sought after, like never before. It will compel nature to grow lush and lavish and the air to become saturated with the fragrance of honeysuckle and jasmine.

I intend to spend the next few weeks in the company of the extravagant gentleman Summer and hopefully some lovely visitors as well. Thus I am taking a break and will return again sometimes later in July.

My days of wine and roses are here. And they are not long...