It was a varied day, which is always the best kind. It started with a drive through hazy Devon countryside, verges and banks spilling with cow parsley, stitchwort and campions. We were on our way to visit a rural pottery, complete with wood fired bottle kiln, lovely wares, nesting swallows and nice folk to sit on a wall and pass the time of day with. Then next to Bideford, along with a million converging motorbikes whose hum soothed us as we enjoyed a French lunch with an obligatory vin rouge. Eventually home in time to listen to championship rugby on the radio, a form of commentary I always find both confusing and inspiring.
These Geranium phaem, or the black widow geranium, were flowering en masse in the garden of Shebbear potter Clive Bowen and his wife Rosie. I can usually find a flower somewhere.