A Rose By Any Other Name

I have no idea what this rose is called but as Shakespeare alluded to in the title, the name of something isn't important. We were at the garden centre and it caught my eye (and nose!) but the label was missing. It was not only beautiful but also the most fragrant that I've smelt for a long time.

I spent 2 hours searching for the hen harrier again this evening but without success. Fionne found the largest pile of horse poo and rubbed herself and her new collar in it. It took all my might to stop her from covering me in it too. Little minx.

She wasn't too keen on the bowl of hot water and shampoo but loved the rubbing down with the towel. This is also one of Brodie's favourite things....she loves to stick her head under the towel and stands there waiting until you rub her head with it.