Roses

Roses—I just have to talk about them. Again, and again talk about how every bush in my garden is in bloom all over again, and how lovely, and how intense the coloration this time; even more vibrant and vivid than on that first precious bloom of early spring.

The Unicorn roses have acquired the color of poached eggs and apricot reserve and the Chicago Peace are ballerinas in tutus in two shades of pinks.

The Paradise rose have been gifting me with so many blooms; enough to make bouquets to bring inside…  

This new outburst of loveliness has gotten me excited and much decidedly on planting more roses next spring.  At some point, early this past spring, I decided to forget about roses; to not replace them, not plant them... forget about them, but my love of them has rekindled somehow, and it has revived with this new show of late summer loveliness, and I guess that instead of waiting as I’d usually do for our local Home Depot or Lowe’s to bring their roses in May, I will be ordering them from a real nursery this time—in January, they’d told me.  I order them in January and they will care for them until spring; until they are ready for planting.  

Thus far, I see about five new spaces where I could fit new roses in, and I have another three bushes I will be taking out for sure.  Oh it feels so good to dream, and make plans!

Do you love roses?  "The rose is a rose from the time it is a seed to the time it dies. Within it, at all times, it contains its whole potential. It seems to be constantly in the process of change: Yet at each state, at each moment, it is perfectly all right as it is".  Paulo Coelho.

My little world

My little flowery world these days is a mixture of quiet moments, sunshine, crisp mornings, autumnal colors and rose petals.

 

The Tatarian Maple tree has gone all yellow and burnt brown and I love how its big toasted color leaves tumble down ever so softly in the hands of afternoon breezes; filling its surroundings with autumnal jewels against all shades of greens. 

The roses are loving this cooler weather too, and again, they have swollen up with new precious buds of pinks and creams, whites and reds.

I supposed these are to be the last ones of the year—and all of a sudden as I write this I’m reminded of how lovely my winters in the south were, and how the garden kept gifting me roses throughout our mellow December days.  “My Christmas roses”—I used to call them.

I am pleased, and much grateful about this outpouring of roses from my Paradise bush, for finally, so it seems, it had gotten acclimatized and, right at the end of summer has puffed up and put new branches filled with some lavender glories.  

It rained the other morning for a little bit. Bountiful, shimmering light moved above everything after it was done, and the landscape, vivid with raindrops seems brighter and greener and lovelier.  

As the day progressed, so did the sun became stronger and the garden brighter, and everywhere you looked you saw the sparkles of late summer, and autumn, and the miracles left behind by rain... brighter colors, and a suppler, livelier land. Every little creature and winged dweller of the garden loved it, and they all felt so happy!

Grapes are almost ready to be harvested, and I shall get to them soon, before the birds do. 

 They're so sweet and good!  And these ones, are seedless!

I’m afraid my little “Frog Pond” is ready for the long winter slumber, just as the garden is beginning its rest too, and my little frog friend here is closing sleepy-yellow-eyes already.  

And that's it for my beautiful Elephant Ears too... they are considered an annual plant around here, for they will not survive our winters, and will never get to grow as big as the ones I used to have in our  southern gardens at the little white cottage. I have never removed their rhizomes before for replanting and I don’t know if they will still be good next spring, so I’m thinking that most probably I will have to get new ones if I want to keep seeing them in the garden every year.  I love them so much! 

Owls are ruffing feathers and beautiful wings as they get comfortable around the garden for their long winter sleep, and I'm not ready... oh I'm not ready to say goodbye to the garden and its glories yet! 

Summer is gathering up her skirts of glories and, like a dream, is gliding away.  Slowly, but certain, I see it fading into the nothingness of another year, as it lends us the graces to be able to fold another page of our history into the drawers of our time.  

And as I see a last vision of gathered petal skirts and sun-kissed robes at the bend of the horizon, a tinge of sadness fills this old soul.  It is hard to let go.  And although my heart awaits the colorful days ahead with its dancing of leaves and crispy breezes, it insists in retaining whatever is left of that, which is living us... clinging to it as if I could in any possible way make it part of my soul.  I am a sentimental, and always will.   

Cold and dreamy

Sept 11—Joe came by again, and this time he helped me put the string lights on the back porch.  How beautiful light is… all lights!  And I’ve been wanting to hung some string lights here in the porch for such long time!… always dreaming, planning and dreaming some more.  And now, it feels as if the night, the stars in the sky and I are one and the same thing under the soft lights of my porch.

Joe, also helped me put some wire or some type of support on the lower roof of the porch for the grapevines to climb onto, so they they will have an adequate support next spring to grow and cover the porch in green curtains.  I can hardly wait to see the progress.

After Joe left, I cut some roses and made a lovely bouquet for our bedroom…

The afternoon was crisp and sunny and everywhere I looked it was gold and emerald, and I wanted to pick roses and dance barefooted on wet green grasses.  How beautiful, and how lovely this time of year is, and feels...

Sept 12—our little world turned cold all of a sudden today.  We woke up and were surprised to find that Winter had swept over the land and, like some sorts of a mythological hen molding soil and loose material with its body and feet, it had made a nest on our little world, sat down on it, and I'm afraid it is here to stay for a while.  

I put on my PJ's and cozy slippers... and all day long I wore this outfit.  I supposed this is the end of summer, and days are deliciously perfect and soft and full of magical moments.

This morning, I brought in most of my potted plants.  Trying to find them the right spot in the house took me a few hours; moving them up and down, placing them here and there.  They are doing marvelous, but I know that soon they will start losing leaves as they adapt to inside temperatures and dryer air.  

I try to make everything beautiful around me in our house, but in the garden, is where my soul wants to live all day long!

Just the still melancholy that I love — that makes life and nature harmonize. The birds are consulting about their migrations, the trees are putting on the hectic or the pallid hues of decay, and begin to strew the ground, that one’s very footsteps may not disturb the repose of earth and air, while they give us a scent that is a perfect anodyne to the restless spirit. Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns. ~George Eliot, letter to Miss Lewis, 1st October 1841

Tomatoes and succulents

Sept 08—Morning glories are such interesting little things—their seeds are.  Ah yeah, capricious little things these flowers are, for alas, I suppose they must have a brain of their own.

You see, this spring I put a few seeds by the feet of the “Naked Tree” below, for them to grow and from where to welcome the dawn with trumpet-shaped flowers...

How beautiful they'd had looked going up, up on the white trunk in their amazing coloration—ipomoea tricolor, ipomoea nil and ipomoea purpurea, Heavenly Blue Morning Glory, Pearly Gates and Scarlet O’Hara Morning Glory.  But, alas, what disappointment they were!  

Three times I tried planting these seeds in the same spot, and on each occasions they flew away and flew and flew away... then, decided to reseed themselves in a totally new place... far away on the opposite side of the garden, to say the least.  I finally gave up, and let them grow where they wanted to be…

But now, the best of the summer is gone, and chilly September days a here to stay, so today, I cleaned the morning glory patch and pulled them all out.  Morning glories die at the first sign of frost, and I don’t like to leave those ugly naked vines up all winter.  Sooner or later, they will have to be pulled out.  So, the sooner, the better, before it gets too cold.  But what pity!  For they were still so beautiful!

Sept 10—I was finally able to plant all those beautiful tulip bulbs that have been waiting in their packet for me to plant them for way too long… and what a beautiful thing it was planting them with bare hands, as I caressed the soil and parted the womb of the earth and deposited the sleepy rhizomes in it...  then, covering them with soil as my hands felt the warmth and miracle of it all; the very scent of earth ascending from the ground; a scent that always reminds me of death and life and all forms of hope.  I filled the rotunda with all these tulips, and I also put some in the dried creek garden side of the garden... now I sit, and wait until next spring.

Elves, nymph, fairies and goblins are watching… eyes silently following me everywhere I go; watching everything I do.  The garden has acquired that magical feel of pre-autumn and crisp apples and terracotta leaves, and I can only sit out here for hours and hours to come and just let my soul be enfolded in all the glories surrounding me… 

The sun sits on a low cloud these days; it's mellow light like globules of mercy and grace and forgiveness, and sometimes, when I go by the path that takes me straight onto the garden, I think I see it nesting on the leaves of the Virginia Creeper. 

Angels, big and tall, small and chubby live here too!  What a precious sight they all are to me!

Today, all the tomatoes plants were pulled out too.  What an amazing crop we had this year!  I kept some for ourselves and put the remainder on a bucket by the side of the road to share with neighbors, but I supposed everyone must plant tomatoes around here, for none stopped.  All the veggie boxes were cleaned up too.

Sept 11—I went to Lowe's this morning and brought home a few more plants, and another bag of tulip bulbs.  Tulip Angelique and Blue Diamond.  I planted them all in the epicenter of the garden, by where the larger fountain sits.  

Among the plants I got today, I brought home an African Violet plant, and a few more succulents.  I also bought a new flowerpot to plant my new succulents.  All my other succulents have nicely survived our hot summer days in the garden, and are doing splendidly. Except for the one pot I keep on the front porch, they are all now inside the house for the winter.

For this one, I decided to paint the terracotta pot all black.  I have found out that if you want to paint your terracotta pots, using acrylic paint is the best way to go.  The paint run smoothly on the porous terracotta and it adheres to it perfectly.  Much better than spray!

My gardens have such a strange way of lending me peaceful energy.  I like to tend in the cool of the morning and pick in the waning sun of the evening.   As the sun sets, the light dims and fades until my plants are in delicious shadow and the mysteriously dank scent of tomato leaves begins to spiral upward. The cool of wet earth spools around me and I find myself refreshed and invigorated in a quiet, sensory way.  I think this is how flowers feel when the day finally breaks back upon itself and a riptide of night moves fast to the West and the bugs spread their wings and fly towards the last of the sun.

I hope you all are doing well, and I hope you go sit outside sometime today or tomorrow, and just let Nature nurture you.  Close your eyes, and let your spirit fly.  Be blessed!