AND STILL THE ROSES WAIT

I meant to post on my roses to follow up on the post that was completely hijacked by Penelope. I will still do so. But first I want to share the lightness in my heart for which I thank the Ox-eye Daisies and Coreopsis in swathes of white and sunny yellow.

Old Phineas, our foreman through the 80s and 90s and into this century, taught me more about gardening than anyone else. And the first lesson I recall was dividing the coreopsis, a few plants my parents had brought, and seeing them fill a bed: dividing and massing and using that which works. The simplest but often the most difficult of lessons.

The big bed at the top of the lawn is in its second summer. But just over a year ago the garden was smashed by the worst hail in our history. I think one of the reasons I am loving this early summer so much, is that it is two years since last I experienced it.

I am learning new things about gardening to this day. The importance of this bed as one moves along the front of the house, the way it makes the bed at the bottom of the lawn seem to move in the opposite direction as you move along, the way the repetition of the flowers enhances this effect, makes me pace up and down with the intentness of a tiger trying to escape its cage. Except that I am entirely joyful as I do it.

For the first time in a long time I took a walk on a sunny morning today. So here are a few more photos in which these plants feature.

The sad bed nearest the water used to be our canna bed. A few tiny tiny leaves are struggling to build strength again. Suddenly, after ignoring them for years, both the porcupines and the bushpigs discovered them at the end of last summer. The cannas  are were perhaps our prime example of divide and mass. The bed awaits rejuvenation.

Whilst admiring the coreopsis and ox-eye daisies, other flowers also catch my eye (including roses I’m saving for that post 🙂 )

There are many yellow flowers in the garden. Some people will say too many. In some seasons, and in some years, I might even agree; not this one.

A berberis – a bit of a thug, but recognizable and manageable, and very lovely; and below a succulent with the richest yellow flowers I’ve ever seen that aren’t either apricot or salmon.

 All the green and yellow made me think of black and white… or rather the many shades of grey between them. And still it remains a joyful sight!