Life goes on.
In one fell swoop, the garden has come alive. The climbing hydrangea is sprouting like mad, and at one go we ha
ve the first flowers opening on the magnolias and the vinca minor; timings are all over the place, as the last of the crocus are still opening, at the same time as the leaf buds appear on the persimmmon tree (which I'm sure should be at least a couple of weeks later); the Japanese Camellia is three weeks late coming into flower, but the Rock Cranesbill is already showing its first bloom. As luck would have it, the carpet of Armandii on the south pergola is strutting its stuff, just as we're due t
o be away for three weeks, and so it will bloom in unobserved splendour. On the surface of the lily pond, the Water Hawthorn flowers are standing proud, and I expect a mass of them by the time we return. A solitary Hellebore blooms at the foot of the south wall - they ought to do well in this garden, but for some inexplicable reason they don't.Difficult to feel sad in the middle of so much vibrant new life. R
eflective, maybe...but that's a different thingTonight's Dinner:
Asparagus Mousse.
Fegato alla Veneziana.
Tartes aux Pommes.
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2 comments:
It sounds as though you are having a floral explosion. Isn't it always the way that we have to be absent when the prettiest things come into bloom?
It's certainly a problem with having a garden when one is generally absent for about half the month. Some years, I suspect some things bloom and finsh without my even having been aware they were about to do anything! We're thinking of amending the routine, though, and being more in Italy in the future...
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