Monday, June 29, 2015

When the rain is warm and soft

We finally had relief from the heat wave today. The morning started with a crack of thunder amid some odd curling clouds, and then settled into a slow, light, warm rain--much needed, I must add. 

A little rain has never stopped a girl from enjoying her garden. So, of course, after my son went to sleep this evening I wandered out amid the rain drops to enjoy the roses.

There is something about the first flush of roses that melts me. It's not the same as the first flash of bulbs in the spring. No, this is deeper, and a bit soul-stirring. Their beauty moves me. They are so beautiful that surely they are a gift. I have four bushes along the front walk so that passersby can enjoy them as well.

However, the ones in the back garden are all mine. Each flower is fleeting and I deadhead eagerly because I never want them to end. But then each year June comes and again they return, flushed and as beautiful as ever.They must sleep some kind of immortal sleep. If only winter were so kind to me.

This year I bought a long-coveted Claire Austin rose. I know it won't last here. I know it is only visiting. But we only live once and I had to have her, even for a while. Tonight, in the rain, was her first flower. I am smitten. Agog. Do, I have it bad? Yes, I don't even pretend to be sensible in the garden this time of year. I am rose drunk. Roses have the power to tap directly into whatever spirit it is that compels us to become gardeners in the first place.

Just to prove that roses aren't the only thing I noticed out there, I also made a point of admiring my potted Nikko hydrangeas, another fleeting visitor. They are the party girls, and I have them stationed at all the social points in my gardens....the front entrance, the deck, and the patio. They are the extroverts and put my guests at ease. But when the guests are gone and I sit in the twilight, it is the roses that sing to me.

You are responsible, forever, for what you have tamed. You are responsible for your rose.
~Antoine de Saint-Exupery (The Little Prince)

Sunday, June 7, 2015

When Night Shimmers

"If a June night could talk, it would probably boast that it invented romance.”~Bern Williams

it's that time of year, here at latitude 53, as we approach the shortest night of the year, when it doesn't really get completely dark at night. I find that in June I barely sleep.

I think I just don't want to miss anything--the birdsong, the lilac perfume on the air, the soft, fresh green of new summer. Because our back garden is private, I like to sneak out in my pyjamas and soak it in--dozing in my lounger with a blanket.

June makes me feel like a teenager again going to a summer dance. The world is beautiful and everything is possible.