One of those "me and lyrics" things.  Major Lynn Anderson earworm going on when I go through these pictures.  Which makes me miss my grandpa who watched her and other similar singers on variety tv specials from his scratchy tweed recliner throughout the 70s and 80s.  Probably before and after as well, but those were the decades I was sitting on the floor against the chair alongside him, memorizing lyrics such as these.  All of which only actually relates to the rose garden at Anglesley Abbey in my mind's eye.  Just sharing the rabbit trail.   <g>

We had our carpets cleaned earlier this month and had to be out for the day – after removing every moveable thing from every floor.   We rewarded ourselves with a day at the Abbey grounds, much happier to be out smelling the roses and rolling down the lawns than home steaming rugs.  

This, in a nutshell, is what we look like when we travel.  Right there.  Cracks me up.