The usual hop, skip and jump in the garden today, despite a recalcitrant May.
There are buds on the peonies, and the Barn Flower (whose real name I don't know) is spreading its skirts all over the Shasta Daisies and the Iris, in preparation for sending up its great towering golden blossoms. It is not in the right place in the garden, but fear it is beyond me this spring and I can only attempt to dig in around the edges and make room for the other plants.
Which I did today, - about noon the wind died down a little, and the sun came out and stripped us of jackets and sweaters. So I carefully dug around the perimeter of the Barn Flower plant, trying to avoid damaging lilies and the blue flax it is attempting to cuddle up to.
In the meantime Charles was having a merry time on the new Yardworks tractor mower, (a wonderful gift from D and N), and by lunch time had made a pretty smart job of cutting the pasture.
The result is a nice expanse of green, but at the expense of that brilliant golden carpet of dandelions.
The lovely Ramona tulips continue their decline into blowsiness, - they remind me of dance hall girls, past their prime but still game for the party.
The Spurge is coming into its own. like a huge golden balloon that gets blown up a little more every day...
And next to it the Fairy Flower (whose proper name I have momentarily forgotten) begins its elegant summer long dance at the front of the stage.
Despite May's shyness in performing in full sunlight, the whole valley seems to have burst into bloom. A walk through the orchard makes one heady with the fragrance of apple blossoms.
The day ended with a little rain storm over the Cawston hills, and I fear that the moon will be hidden from us tonight by stormy clouds.
We come from the earth, we return to the earth, and in between we garden."
For I am fugitive, I am very fugitive -
Those that come after me will gather these roses, And watch, as I do now, the white wisteria burst, in the sunshines, from its pale green sheath.
Planned. Planted. Established. Then neglected, Till at last the loiterer by the gate will wonder At the old, old cottage, the old wooden cottage, And say, 'One might build here, the view is glorious; This must have been a pretty garden once.' -Mary Ursula Bethell, Time, 1929
We lived at the back of our son's horse pasture and had a wonderful view of the Similkameen Valley. Then we
moved to town, and although we still lived in the same beautiful valley we saw it from a different perspective, and sometimes telephone wires get in the way.
Hildred writes Daybyday,
Charles wrote From the Back Pasture. He was writing at great urging from the family to record some of the stories of his life and his family memories.
We had reached the point in our lives where we had time to appreciate the beauty of each day and were happy we had the energy to enjoy it. In 2012 we celebrated our 67th wedding anniversary, but then I lost my darling husband when he fell and broke his hip, and did not recover from the resulting surgery. Life has changed for me considerably......
Off to the side - a Garden Diary to keep track of what happens Down the Garden Path.
And a Recollection Blog, to keep alive the memories of our families.