Sunday, 18 May 2014
A garden tale . . .
"Where does it lead, the garden path?
To the lily pond where the blackbirds bath?
Or the rustic seat where the old trees lean
To make a bower of gold and green?
It does not lead to the pool at all,
Or the wicket gate in the orchard wall.
It leads you into a world apart,
To the garden of dreams that is in your heart."
I do believe that yesterday was the most beautiful day we have had yet this Spring. The sun was shining gloriously and Todd said the temperature got way up into the 80's . . . at least in the sunshine on our back patio. He put up an outdoor thermometer a few weeks ago so he could keep an eye on it.
Is this a sign that one is getting older? This interest in temperatures and sunshine? I don't know . . . but I do find myself wanting to know how warm or how cold it is each day, not that knowing can change a thing, but there is a certain comfort which comes from knowing that the temperatures are rising.
In the front garden now blooms the "Papaver Oriental," or Oriental Poppy, Coral Reef. We planted them last year and they are so beautiful, with their papery pink petals and chocolate black centres. It was not a large plant last year, but this year it is huge, with many more blooms. I was so surprised to see it arrive. I had forgotten that we had it and did not notice it coming up and then, all of a sudden it seemed . . . it was there again. I love little surprises in the garden like that, don't you?
Each year I say I am going to pick flowers to press between the pages of my many books, so that in the winter months I can come upon them like a sweet summer surprise when the cold winds do blow and the rain is lashing itself against our window panes in a ferocious temper.
And then I don't. But that is me . . . all ideas and little action . . .
Would these press do you think? I am not sure, and it seems a sin to separate them from their partners. They play such a pretty tune together, tinkling pink and ruby keys above the purple lobelia. They are the belles of the ball, and I dare not disturb their music. It would be somehow sacrilegious I think . . . or even cruel. No, I will let them play on in our garden . . . their sweet melody merely a prelude to the symphony which is to come when the hydrangea break out into tune . . .
Already the small green bud of blossom breathes upon each tender bough . . . oh the purples and pinks and pale blush of summer's bloom. It's now a promise just waiting to explode upon each branch and leaf. Oh, i do so love spring!
Our geraniums have wintered well and are blooming now. I am always surprised at the hardiness of these beautiful plants. They make such a lovely show, from early spring right on into the late autumn. They are the perfect garden guests . . . they ask for nothing and yet they give so much in return for a bit of sun and water now and again.
Their fragrance is not the most pleasant of fragrances, but then again, I had some Cath Kidston soaps once upon a time . . . Lemon and Geranium . . . and it was my favourite scent of all the soaps. They no longer make it, mores the pity . . .
I do not know what this is called. I believe it is a type of fire-weed. Todd planted all sorts of wild flower seed in the garden and it will be surprising us throughout the season . . . a floral table of delights that we can feast our eyes upon as the weeks pass by.
Wild flowers have almost been lost during the years with the use of pesticides etc. and with them the many, many species of butterflies have been diminishing and that is why we plant wild flowers which constantly delight and surprise us from every turn throughout the growing season with their spontaneity !
I do believe there were anemones, but now only this remains from the blooms now finished. I think even these are beautiful in a wild urchin way . . . nature is so magnificent I believe. How can one look at all that it gifts us with and not see the face of God . . . it baffles me.
This is not by accident. How could it be? All weaves together in a magical story which delights every sense . . . no, not an accident, but a beautiful harmony from above.
And everywhere on bush and bough we begin to see the tender fruits which are growing . . . a fruited feast in the making. Black Currant, Gooseberry, Raspberry, Blueberry, Logan berry . . . and the tender white blooms which promise a feast of sweet Strawberries in the not too distant future!
And our apple, pear and plum trees are filled with budding fruits as well. There is so much to look forward to. The dance is only beginning!
With an hundred thousand wishes awaiting us on the horizon . . .
Just blow . . .
Mitzie is so enjoying the drier, sunnier weather for it means that she is free to amble through the back garden without sinking up to her knees in wet soggy grass. Here she was relaxing beneath the branches of the Black Currant bush She sits out there for hours, just willing the neighbourhood cats to try to enter her domain so that she can chase them off in a barking tail wagging frenzy. Todd says it's really strange, for she can see a cat on the street when he is walking her and she pays no notice at all . . . and yet one only has to brush it's tail against the outside edge of our garden hedge and she is barking and ready to pounce!
We do so love her . . .
A thought to carry with you through today . . .
"And the Lord God formed man of the dust of the ground,
and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life;
and man became a living soul."
Oh, there is such a treat which awaits you in my kitchen today . . . delicious Raspberry Bakewell French Toast! Made from stale croissants and with all the lovely flavours we have come to love in our famous Bakewell bakes . . . almonds, raspberries . . . beautiful.
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Have a wonderful day!!