"Moses supposes.."

"Moses supposes his toes-es are roses,
  but Moses supposes erroneously."

Our garden is now full of roses of all different colours. Pink, peach, and yellow, they are climbing through the hedges, tumbling out of the flower beds, and spilling over across the paths.
They make lovely flower arrangements - this one was made with pink and yellow roses, chervil, and purple geraniums. I originally cut the flowers with the intention of making them into several smaller arrangements, but when I had them laid out on the dining-room table afterwards, on a sheet of newspaper to stop the pollen making too much mess, they looked so happy all together in one group, that I left them to it.

Recently I have been enjoying reading 'The Italian' by Mrs Radcliffe. I have never gasped aloud so much at any book before - talk about melodrama! There were such terrific twists and turns of the plot as I should not have thought possible; and the heroine had so many narrow escapes and near-death experiences (to say nothing of the sufferings of the poor hero at the hands of the Inquisition) that I'm surprised my hair had not turned white by the end of it.