Three quick pictures from this morning's garden at No. 9. I woke in the night to the smell of jasmine. At 6am I was in the garden with coffee and camera, thanks to jetlag.
The garden is stunning and almost overwhelmingly scented. We usually visit later in December and the three weeks jump we have on that season is remarkable. Roses still in full flight and the agapanthus just starting. And that jasmine.
As I type, I hear the sound of tent poles being erected in the garden for this weekend's party. There will not be much time for blogging, so forgive me if posting is sporadic for a while. It is good to be home, and there is much to do. I cried when I saw the city spread out in twinkling lights last night as our giant aircraft coasted in to land, its nose pointing into the raging headwind, summer's herald in the Cape.
Vince is already out, hunting Cape dwarf chameleons. Lunch will be on False Bay, fish and chips with Tipsy as a late birthday present for her. Tomorrow we go early to Chart Farm to hand pick more roses for the party.
And the jasmine is blowing in through the window, and the garden is full of floating rose petals loosened by the wind which sounds like the sea in the trees.