The Garden Rampant
When we left for a week away from home, I agonized over all the changes in the garden that would take place in our absence. I would miss seeing so many things blooming, come into their own, display their glory for a brief period of time before collapsing into obscurity on our return.
The rhododendrons would be finished flowering, the azaleas, the irises, and some of the lilies. I would miss the thrill of seeing the first of the clematis blooms blissfully opening, the first of the roses flush with bloom.
And the tree peonies would finally relinquish their hold on beauty. The French lilac would fade, its fragrance with it. The lilies-of-the-valley, so sublimely fragrant, would have completed their brief but vital presence in our gardens.
The foam flower would be faded, left a memory to anticipate for next year. The prime of the Jack-in-the-pulpits would have passed, as have the trilliums. And the weeds! They'd proliferate crazily without my being there to patiently pluck them from between the perennials and the annuals.
All those apprehensions and more proved true, on our return. The cut-backs I'd meant to do before we left and hadn't got around to resulted in overgrowth and rampant crowding of the flowerbeds, the rose bushes.
On the plus side, the roses are abundant and gorgeous, although the lupins have faded, in our absence. The clematis vines - all of them - are gloriously, abundantly, full of marvellously huge blooms.
The last of the generous blossoms on our magnolia trees have faded, it's true, and so have the plentiful and fragrant crab-apple blossoms. But the lilies are beginning to blossom in earnest, the Persian cornflowers too, and the Canterbury bells, white and blue, are radiant in their presentation.
The painted daisies are brilliant, although the alliums have lost their purple hue and are now mere skeletal images of their former glory. The flowering peas, both standard and pendulous, have overgrown themselves, as have the mulberry trees.
The penstemon, the hairy bearded tongue, the poppies, the emerging floral tributes to summer and beauty are all promising to radiate colour and texture and form for our delectation and appreciation.
And as soon as all this incessant rain comes to a halt, I shall be enabled to go out into the garden to begin the process of cut-back and control, to establish order once again in our rampant garden.
The rhododendrons would be finished flowering, the azaleas, the irises, and some of the lilies. I would miss the thrill of seeing the first of the clematis blooms blissfully opening, the first of the roses flush with bloom.
And the tree peonies would finally relinquish their hold on beauty. The French lilac would fade, its fragrance with it. The lilies-of-the-valley, so sublimely fragrant, would have completed their brief but vital presence in our gardens.
The foam flower would be faded, left a memory to anticipate for next year. The prime of the Jack-in-the-pulpits would have passed, as have the trilliums. And the weeds! They'd proliferate crazily without my being there to patiently pluck them from between the perennials and the annuals.
All those apprehensions and more proved true, on our return. The cut-backs I'd meant to do before we left and hadn't got around to resulted in overgrowth and rampant crowding of the flowerbeds, the rose bushes.
On the plus side, the roses are abundant and gorgeous, although the lupins have faded, in our absence. The clematis vines - all of them - are gloriously, abundantly, full of marvellously huge blooms.
The last of the generous blossoms on our magnolia trees have faded, it's true, and so have the plentiful and fragrant crab-apple blossoms. But the lilies are beginning to blossom in earnest, the Persian cornflowers too, and the Canterbury bells, white and blue, are radiant in their presentation.
The painted daisies are brilliant, although the alliums have lost their purple hue and are now mere skeletal images of their former glory. The flowering peas, both standard and pendulous, have overgrown themselves, as have the mulberry trees.
The penstemon, the hairy bearded tongue, the poppies, the emerging floral tributes to summer and beauty are all promising to radiate colour and texture and form for our delectation and appreciation.
And as soon as all this incessant rain comes to a halt, I shall be enabled to go out into the garden to begin the process of cut-back and control, to establish order once again in our rampant garden.
Labels: Gardening
posted by Pieface @ 7:42 PM
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