Cannery Row

It's hot and dusty round here, and feels like something out of a John Steinbeck Novel.

...The sun, driving straight down, stung with its rays. The shadows of the truck bed were dark bars on the ground, and the truck smelled of hot oil and paint. The few chickens had left the yard to hide in the tool shed from the sun. In the sty, the pigs lay panting, close to the fence where a thin shadow fell, and they complained shrilly now and then. the two dogs were stretched in the red dust under the truck, panting, their dripping tongues covered with dust. Pa pulled his hat low over his eyes and squatted down...

The two bunches of flowers I was given last week were both looking a little droopy - so I trimmed their stems, and gave them a drink of cool water, then re-arranged them in some pretty cans along the window sill.

 

Years ago, one of our church members said they were off to Spain on holiday. "Bring me back some olives!" said Bob, jokingly. And now it has somehow become a tradition, and I am building up a collection of beautifully painted tins, from all round the Mediterranean.

This is an Italian 'cigarette biscuit' tin, left over from Christmas.

I always put a glass inside, to hold the water - otherwise the tins would rust and stain things.

Having dismantled the bunches and reorganised them, I had lots of white flowers left over.

 

This welly belong to Liz - and has a nasty split in it, which we have not got round to fixing yet [she did buy some replacement boots back in the spring]

I do possess some beautiful vases and pitchers. But just occasionally, I love the quirkiness of flowers presented in different containers. It makes the place feel fun and summery.