One summer, when I returned to Cornwall for a short break, someone said that I looked “pale and interesting”. What he meant was that I looked ill. Like a city person. Comparing and contrasting to those around me, it was painfully apparent that he was quite right. It wasn’t about lack of colour, it was about excess of pallor. I didn’t take it as a compliment.
One solitary Love in the Mist stood firm in the whipping wind. Faded by the weather, its fern-like collar still standing proud. Although so far we have only had minor frosts, much is beginning to cultivate a bleached out look. Pale and interesting. Still much more attractive than that city girl.