It is one of my favourite sensory pleasures to hold the impossibly soft and tender rose in one hand and snip its bristly stem with the other. The petals are softer than anything I know: peach fuzz, babies’ bottoms, duck down: they are nothing to this rose. The spent flower fits perfectly into my hand. Its petals may suddenly let out a silent ‘oh!‘, let go of their calyx all at once. They drop into my waiting bucket, with a flurry of petal confetti. and glorious rose perfume.
I don’t think of myself as a particularly girly girl, and throughout my life I have almost avoided pink. Yet when I look around my rose garden, I see pink everywhere. And yes, I am tickled pink.
I generally plant roses and herbaceous perennials in groups of three. This gives each variety a presence in the border: their flowers are in sufficient number to make an impact. I like the way they form clear hummocks, like hills, through the border. Their outlines remind me of a child’s drawing of overlapping hills.
This peony is mouth-watering. There is a lightness to intersectional peonies. Where herbaceous peonies are taffeta and tulle, intersectional peonies are a swishy silk skirt on bare legs.
The best buds of all are the oriental poppies. They wear thick woollen tights, but silk knickers beneath. This one is about to burst its breeches.
Like with life, the garden is always in a state of flux. Nothing stays the same for long. There is always something new, always change.
My favourite winter job in the garden is MULCHING. Just the word is delightful. Like squelching, but warmer and snugglier.
I am a ‘colour pop’ kind of a girl. But occasionally, with a light frost, I am forced to focus on the neutrals. With the aid of my new book all about colour, I can now distinguish my buff from my fawn!
Let’s celebrate those who dare to be different. Who let their madness shine through. Who receive a frosty reception but do it anyway.
I remember finding the image of Miss Haversham rather thrilling. Her abandon of social convention. Her total neglect of housework. Her cunning.
The light in September is soft. Rosa ‘Roald Dahl’ is like melting butter. The greens are sober: sage and jade. They provide the perfect foil for the fewer flowers in the rose garden.
A post about fragility, being gentle, and holding on.