I am in my garden, under my umbrella, in a summer frock with a thick vest on... In other words, it is a typical Dutch late-Spring day, with a bit of everything: wind, sunshine, and huge sailing clouds.
I'm on my own; my family all had their own things to pursue, and that's fine by me. They'll all be back at some stage in the evening, demanding food and attention, so right now I'm enjoying my time by myself. And admiring my roses. The one above is a New Dawn.
I adore roses. And have tried to grow them ever since we bought our house in 1994. But our soil isn't quite right for them; and it has been mainly a big case of trial and error which species thrive and which do not (and that, unfortunately is most of them). The white one does okay. It is called Snow White.
This one, a small flowering kind with bright red blooms, is just about to spring into flower. And it has a story.
My Mum, knowing I love roses, bought it for me in the supermarket years ago, in a pot. It was just 15 cm high and had exactly 5 flowers. It was one of those supermarket plants that are supposed to look good for a week or so and then they expect you to throw it away and buy another one. I even scolded my Mum for spending her money on such a plant. So, when this rose had dropped her flowers, predictably after a week, I first wanted to throw it on the compost heap. But I changed my mind, for the leaves looked quite healthy. So I planted it outside our garden, underneath the elderberry tree, and told it to either live or give up the ghost, it was all the same to me.
Not only did it live, but it thrived. It is now huge, climbing all the way up into the elderberry and along our fence. It has hundreds and hundreds of flowers every year. It has survived the coldest winter we've experienced for years in 2012, whilst all our other roses died. I greet it every day. Admire its pluck and will to survive. And have have said sorry to it numerous times for showing it such indifference when I planted it.
(Yeah, yeah, I've warned you I'm one of those dotty women, haven't I?)
The gorgeous pink climbing rose above is another gift from my Mum. She had it on her balcony, where it suffered from the ever blowing Westerly winds we have over here near the sea. So she gave it to us, and it does well. It shall remain nameless, like the hardy little pot rose. But it is loved.
It is just coming into flower as well, as you can see in the very fashionable selfie :P
Here we are. At the end of this rosy blogpost. I'm going to pour a glass of sherry for Mum (who will be arriving for dinner any minute) and a glass of red wine for myself, and smell the roses. That makes me very happy.
Enjoy your evening!