They could all fall off in the rain tomorrow, or get battered by the wind, but for the moment they are there, abundantly, roses everywhere. Crazily overgrown into the bargain, the garden looks like something out of children's book when the children clamber over a fence and find something magical. The greeness will disappear as soon as it gets hot. But now it is perfect : elderflowers in the hedge, buttercups as high as a child in the long grass, and the scent of the roses beckoning you, as if a bumblebee, this way and that to see what lies a little further on. It's just the beginning of the summer. Everything, you feel, can still happen.