Ready for her close-up.
Eventually she started to gnaw at the lei, so I removed it. The blossoms come from my favourite perennial sweet pea--my very own volunteer, home-made, accidental hybrid. Years ago a helpful bumblebee cross-pollinated my pinky-purply lathyrus latifolius with my snowy "White Pearl," and the following year this pretty combination popped up everywhere. A welcome addition to the garden, even if it hasn't any scent, like the annual sweet peas. (Which haven't yet come into bloom, but are budding now.)
Lola doesn't like being decorated. It's beneath her dignity--she knows she gorgeous enough without any embellishment. She occupies her favourite corner of the deck, surveying her surroundings.
I rescued these roses from the impending rain, a mixed bouquet of damp albas, gallicas, and an exquisite Boursault--a future Rose of the Day. Stay tuned!
Roses of the Day
Maiden's Blush. This rose has several names in both English and French. The French one--Cuisse de Nymphe (Nymph's Thigh)--was bestowed in 1802, and was rather naughtier than its innocent, pastoral 18th century English name. An alba rose, it's a very pale pink with lots of petals, and wonderfully fragrant. Supposedly it was known by the 15th century.
Banshee. A mystery rose. My mother rooted a cutting for me--she got it from somebody else who referred it it as Banshee. I'm not entirely convinced it is or isn't, but I call it that, too. (Other rose types seem to have the name Banshee, creating confusion.) It grew from a stick into a monster bush, 7 or 8 feet high. Some sort of hybrid, it's practically a dead-ringer for Maiden's Blush: once-blooming, smells just as nice, dislikes rain just as much. As ever, it's loaded with buds, but the weather's been so wet that I don't expect a great display this year. Because nearly constant rain has caused the buds to ball up (happens every year), it's a frustrating plant. Somebody on their website dated its origin as 1773. Who am I to argue?
No comments:
Post a Comment