|rosa rambling rector|
And talking of weddings - the other day hundreds of these moths flew into the dog's room through the French windows - fluttering around as if they were confetti. I have never seen so many of them. Perhaps they all hatched at once and had been hiding under the computer table.
The house is full of the heavy scent of perfume at the moment with these Dianthus Mrs Sinkins(see below) which just have to be picked as they sprawl all over the place - and the continuing sweet peas and lilies and branches of Philadelphus Belle Etoile. We have a friend staying with us who suffers from hayfever (and animal fluff) so we 've tried to keep the perfume isolated but you can't really - it just wafts around going where it pleases.
I love this onopordum acanthus which is towering at about ten feet. They are only biennial but once you've got one you'll always have them and Nature - who I think is the best garden designer of all - sets them up in perfect places. This one is a little close to the washing line but what's a snagged cardi when you have something so magnificent? It's also known as the Scottish thistle and it does look as if it could be sprouting from the head of the Monarch of the Glen.
This is one of my favourite pelargoniums - Lord Bute. He's such a great colour and with any luck will have surpassed all other pelargoniums by the end of the summer. Of course it isn't only luck - I have to remember to water it. We haven't had rain for weeks and things are very hard and dry but we had a downpour yesterday which made everything look like Glastonbury festival. We did get caught out in it taking the horses back to that yurt field. I had some waterproofs on but Beezle hates getting wet and has to be towelled down. Still, as he and Alexander Woolcott (1887-1943) would say " I must get out of these wet clothes and into a dry martini.
I expect Lord Bute would have said it too.
From time to time our love is like a sail
and when the sail begins to alternate
from tack to tack, it’s like a swallowtail
and when the swallow flies it’s like a coat;
and if the coat is yours, it has a tear
like a wide mouth and when the mouth begins
to draw the wind, it’s like a trumpeter
and when the trumpet blows, it blows like millions…
and this, my love, when millions come and go
beyond the need of us, is like a trick;
and when the trick begins, it’s like a toe
tip-toeing on a rope, which is like luck;
and when the luck begins, it’s like a wedding,
which is like love, which is like everything.