The house in the roses

We were away travelling this past week.  The entire week I attended meetings, met new people and ate at some awesome restaurants, always yearning secretly for my favorite place in the entire world—home.  Then, the following morning after we came back, the first thing I did was to go out into the garden.  And what a breathtaking view, and what surprise waiting for me there... for the entire garden was in bloom!  

Every rose bush had come into flower; so many roses as I had never seen since we moved back, as if some angel had decided to come by and worked his magic all around just to amaze me.  How beautiful, and how plentiful had Nature rewarded me!

I made a huge bouquet with the Chicago Peace...

And brought it in!

On Monday, I removed the final lilies from the garden; droopy as they were, and unable to put forth a single flower throughout the summer, and which had become sort of an eyesore to me, and on Tuesday it was the Mexican Petunias around one of the fountains in the rose beds along the bedroom wall.  I love these little flowers, but they had become too rowdy and overgrown and had stopped blooming.  I also wanted to free up some space in that area and just let the roses be the focal point.  So that’s done.  

On Tuesday, I decided it was time to work on the roses that have become wild and, finally, mustering enough courage and the strength necessary to accomplish the job, I removed the first one.  This 13 year old rose was something else to dig, with roots almost with the width of a man’s neck—not exaggerating.  Roots had to be severed from the midsection, which means that part of it still remains in the grown and most probably the Dr. Huey part of it will resurface again.    

Our mornings and evenings are cold and swift, with beautiful sunny midafternoons. There is a magical type of a harmony everywhere I look, and the sky has a different luster to it.  Trees, in the distance against the greyish background of the mountains have acquired the colors of coriander, turmeric, pumpkins and crisp apples, and I almost bought the sweetest little kitten the other day.  Tillie was her name.    

  

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