I was given some sweet-peas

yesterday. They came from Polly's garden. She brought the little bunch when she came to get a bag of sheep manure from the load my father had delivered recently.
I do not know much about flowers. I am of the "I know what I like" brigade. I like roses - but only from a distance. I do not much care for the thorns. I would not bother to plant any myself. I like things like daffodils, irises and hyacinths. They are short lived but colourful and herald the end of winter. I like nasturtiums even though they tend to take over in places. Yesterday morning I went past the creek and discovered that some nasturtiums had climbed, creeper like, into one of the trees. Someone must have been nurturing them or perhaps we have just had enough rain this year for them to go exploring. Our new lavender bush is beginning to catch up to the old bushes too.
It is all very nice but they are not sweet peas. These are magnificent. We have them sitting on the table we usually eat at. They are in a tiny cream vase with an iris on the side. The two do not seem to mind mixing in the least. The stems are not terribly long but there are at least five shades of pink, three of purple and a deep red, all with graduations. Come into the house and you can smell their perfume as you enter the door.
I know they will not last long. The petals will gradually shrivel and become darker. The colours will still be beautiful but they will not be the same. It does not matter. I am going to appreciate them while they do last and I will have the memory of them for much longer.