It occurred to me that almost all the pictures I post are taken in the light of early morning. There is something lovely and mysterious about the evening though and the flowers seem to know it. I have some sort of starry woodland white blossoms that cannot be picked as they wilt almost immediately. I am convinced they have a soft other life when we are all asleep. They bend and sway with night breezes and see the alley cats as they prowl about. They are the first to hear the song of birds just before it is light. They take warning and fix their innocent cheerful faces for me to see as I pass by on the path. My beautiful roses, almost spoiled by heavy rain give a little light to a spot where shadows prepare for the evening. Wild flowers in the lane or calmly intruding into my garden shine for the last few moments of the day. Beautiful white clusters on impossibly tall stems share the green lane with something that looks like millet and super-sized dandelion clocks rival the 24 hour day. Time to come in to the little house and leave the garden and the lane to the night.