Life at that old house in the roses

May 31—on the last day of May the painters gave our house a pressure wash—everything got dusted off and cleaned.  Dirt, grime, insect nests, leaves, and big gunk were knocked down.  Then, it rained all day. 

I went to our local Goodwill and found this cute little fountain.  When the painting job is done it will go in the back porch among all my potted plants, or maybe I should put it on the front porch and entertain the passing world to the soothing sound of water?… but for now, it sits on top of the little orange dresser in my gypsy room.  It looks so cute there!

Withered roses look so pretty… I should had left them be for a little longer, but the room had that particular smell typical of old cemeteries from old forgotten villages in some remote Spanish countries… and, I liked it… I do like it, and I should have let the beauty of lifeless roses embellish the room a little longer, after all, their musty scent perfected the soothing sound of water from the small fountain, but I thought the room needed be more organic, or naturalistic for that purpose; like bursting with potted plants, tall plants such as Kentia palms and Philodendrons, and a few hanging baskets like a little oasis of sorts with the scent of old cemeteries lingering on... And thus, I tossed the dried flowers, unplugged the little fountain and left the room. 

Yesterday, everything in the back porch had to be moved onto the garden, away from walls. And furniture and flowerpots in the front porch are now sitting in the living room. We're all excitedly waiting for the painting job to start... but this disarray of things makes me feel a little edgy and I get a little anxious for order to return and for the normality of things again… but all is worth it.    

I was looking at some pictures of exactly one year ago today… to see how life was unfolding back then at the little white cottage… and oh, the pond—my soul hovered over that pond; my wings flapped above the Crepe Myrtles and Butterfly bushes (Buddleia davidii). How lovely, how sunny and flowery and lush and very lovely everything looked, and how my heart wishes for a pond here at this old house in the roses.

I think of mom constantly.  I miss her terribly.  But there are days that are worse than others, and I'd think of her the entire day, and cry for anything, and my little heart is soft under this great nostalgia.  I don’t know why this happens, or why my heart would seek her out so profoundly on certain days more than others.  The beginning of this week it was like that…  and then the entire week.   She lives forever in my broken heart that doesn’t seal back up... I guess I'm still mourning.   

Do people still read blogs anymore? I read a comment the other day where someone was asking that question; favoring Instagram over blogging. It got me thinking. Yes, blogging has certainly changed a lot from what it used to be ten years ago when I started blogging, but then again people who enjoy reading will always read blogs.  I certainly choose blogs over Instagram, which I think is the plateau for a very different generation than mine… so I guess I'll keep blogging, and hope you'll continue coming by to share my little life!  It is so rewarding.

The painters didn’t come by today.  They won’t come tomorrow, neither the following day.  They asked if they could start on Monday instead.  Of course, I was expecting something like that to happen.  Such a good deal, was too good to be perfect!

Roses and more...

May 28—today I finally found the courage to remove a few of the old roses from the garden.  The Charisma Rose, which I planted back in 2008 (one of the very first ones) was doing so poorly, that it was a pitiful thing to see; with only a pathetic little spray of orange and gold small bloom. Thus, it had to be eradicated from the garden.

I remember how beautiful this bush used to be, with its brilliant orange scarlet blooms blending beautifully against the colors of the landscape. The flowers were pure orange when they first opened, then quickly blushed to a vermilion shade, until finally fading into a toasted shade of scarlet, bordering on dark coral.  Now, they are no more, but the garden is beaming with lots of other roses, and more to come...

The two shrubs next to the Charisma Rose were not looking good either.  In fact, one of them had become completely wild and leggy, with not a single bloom in it whatsoever, so this one I removed without much contemplation.  The one right by it, was only saved because of the promise of its few small blooms in the most intense of reds.   Still wild, yet beautiful to me.

These two rose bushes were planted around the big fountain almost right before we left…  one was a Cinco de Mayo:  Gifted to me by the Fisherman on that summer of 2012, and the other was a Distant Drums shrub, also planted around that same time, and also beautiful beyond description.  I cannot tell now, however, which of these lovely roses I removed and which I left, for I can’t remember the exact location where I’d planted them. 

There is not a creature in all this part of the world who could in the least understand with what heart-beatings I’ve been looking forward to the flowering of these roses, but they were beyond hope and I have to accept the fact that I may need to remove the one left as well.

I am excited about the awesome new variety of roses available today; all new breeds, all beautiful beyond description to embellish this old-new garden of mine.  So, I am looking forward to this thought, or perhaps, I should just plant something else this time?  Something less pretentious and of a quieter nature, a lower, more mysterious type of a plant, like hostas, with the sublime sense they bring to mind of the deep woods and shady places. 

The mere thinking of them is always a joy.  To me these precious deep green creatures of the shade always bring to mind a wonderful and a mysterious place, where my castles in the air are always the strangest and most splendid adventures… A garden, after all, must combine the poetic and the mysterious with a feeling of serenity and joy.  So alas, I may be planting something other than roses in that newly opened space.

May 29—I worked incessantly in the garden today.  From 7am to past noon, and then some more, I was out there pulling out and replanting peonies and overgrown lilies that were overcrowding the garden and taking away much needed space.   

The rotunda, or Golden Unicorn gardens where roses of the same name and climbers grow was overcrowded with plumped peonies that bloomed in one day and withered in just a week. So, I pruned with gusto, and collected masses of them to make enough bouquets to embellish each room of the house.   

 

Now, that they have started to put forth flowers, I discovered that many more of the old roses have gone wild. They were grafted roses that had died, or the graft failed while I was away. You could still see branches, but the growths were from the root stock; a much hardier, vigorous plant, but otherwise not garden worthy roses.  So, they needed be pulled out. Some, I only pruned to where the small scarce blooms were and let them be.  But they will need be pruned often, for they are a gangly bunch—long-limbed and awkward.    

I later sprayed all roses with Neem oil and freed some of them from those tall and widespread garden Phlox growing around them, preventing air circulation, which is a key component in growing roses.  Without it they are more prone to disease.

I'm exhausted, thorn pocked and sunburned, and there are moments when I wish I’d be Elizabeth in her German garden just instructing others what to do and what need be done there, but then again, this wouldn’t be my garden in the real sense; for to call a garden your own, one must bequeath a bit of your own soul to it every time you step in it… through perspiration, and hard work; which are the true indication of the gardener's passion and love.  

I love how our master room window gets covered by roses throughout the summer... the Sally Holmes climbing rose growing at its feet grows vigorously all year; with abundant spring and summer blooms.

I have two colors of irises growing in mom’s remembrance garden, which I didn’t know, because I only planted the blue variety, or so I thought, and now this lovely burgundy iris is showing up everywhere… I so love it!

One of my ever favorite... Chicago Peace

The climbing Don Juan gone wild.  It still have some small blooms in it, which I like, so I'm letting it be for now...

Some time ago, someone left me a message—a reader, an older woman who lives or lived somewhere in New Mexico, or perhaps Arizona?  She had a lovely small walled garden filled mainly with flowerpots and the typical Santa Fe stucco walls.  I’ve been trying to locate this blog so I can go visit again and enjoy seeing all her beautiful potted plants, but I cannot seem to find her blog.  I hope some of you may know who she is, or who’s blog I’m referring to, so that you can guide me there, or even come along with me?

Thank you for being here in this parts of the world with me... in spirit and thoughts.  I usually do the same, although many times silent.  Be blessed!

Of peonies and roses...

Last Thursday, all the peonies opened up in a one same hour… I wanted to collect a big bouquet of them to bring in, but my heart said ‘leave’ them—let them be where they are’, and thus I’m enjoying seeing them on their bushes; all smiles and filling up the garden in joyful pink dots… dark pinks and the faintest pale pinks. The ones in dark pinks may be two different variety; one plumed up with petals and a cupped, larger florets than its sister--this one with less petals and a beautiful yellow center. 

 Then on Saturday... I couldn't resist!

It was windy, and some of the beautiful peonies were knocked down to the floor under their weight... a wonderful excuse for me to finally cut them and make that bouquet I was dreaming of...

The garden looks so beautiful...

I am dancing in my skin!

 Fairies are happy too!

The other day, I caught one near the reflecting pool wearing flowers on her hair!

The human soul is hungry for beauty; we seek it everywhere - in landscape, music, art, clothes, furniture, gardening, companionship, love, religion, and in ourselves. When we experience the beautiful, there is a sense of homecoming.

I miss the frogs and spring peepers of my southern little cottage; miss their courtship songs and green responses at the onset of night, but I cannot complain. I'm finding my own special magic in this flower filled garden of our high desert… the other day I saw a round, black cat wandering the gardens.  I’d seen him here before in the winter garden, looking after the birds… and how nice the vision of it every time he visits; how very plump and happy he looks. Free to roam wherever he pleases like those feral of my yesterdays, but still loved and well cared for.

Happy yellow Columbines are showing up everywhere too!

Like some wispy fairies they dance on the wings of the faintest winds...

I have finally found a painter that has agreed to paint our home at a most reasonable of prices.  I am blessed, and excited about the idea of seeing our house renovated with freshly new paint.  Grays, and white and a marigold yellow front door!

The first roses have been slowly opening… slowly, and so fast too, because one day they are but buds ready to burst, and the following they are all already there!  Opened, and smiling, and making my little place my favorite place to be!  I will show you pictures of my first roses later, but for now, I’ll leave you some of my first rose bouquet!  Beautiful, enchanting roses from my very own garden!  I’m so lucky!    

OK, that's it!  Hope you're having a marvelous Saturday... breeze and thundery around here!