Looking westwards from our kitchen balcony at a beautiful sunset this evening.

In the opposite direction, the sky is still blue, with wisps of grey-pink cloud.

And a few minutes later, the western sky is striped with an unbelievably glowing pink highlight.  I couldn’t capture it exactly on my camera, but I hope this gives an impression, at least.

I took these pictures two weeks ago in my parents’ garden.  Summer is such a wonderful surprise – you wait for months and then everything flowers all at once.  After so much grey, followed by a little tentative green and white, we’re surrounded by colours upon colours.  It was worth the wait, yet again.

I still have to upload my most recent pictures of sunny Britain from the camera into the computer, so I thought I’d have another flashback to this day last year – clearly also a good day for photographs.  I was making muffins from the German muffin book (a good way to learn a language – if you don’t understand properly, the cakes don’t work, so you try hard!) in our L-shaped white kitchen.  Not much preparation space, but we had some very nice meals and cakes there.  I’ve always had tiny kitchens until we moved into our current flat, and I think you just need to be (a) organized or (b) good at balancing things on other things.  I’m more of a (b) person myself.

The iron sits on the kitchen windowsill when I’m not using it (so, quite a lot of the time, then), and just in front of it sits a big cyclamen in a pot.  I liked the distorted but somehow still pure and clear flower image in the shiny hotplate of the iron.  There are beautiful things all around us, and sometimes they’re very easy to miss.

Sushi hand-rolls made from our new Japanese cookbook, not expertly shaped perhaps, but delicious nonetheless.  The title of this post refers to the fact that we made enough for four and ate it all between two of us…

One day about a month ago, I noticed that our balcony had filled up with water in a heavy rain shower. The rain had stopped, and the puddle swayed and shivered in the wind, creating an ever-changing reinvention of the wrought-iron balcony railing. I love the way that cameras can capture images that we may be aware of but can never truly see with our own eyes.