That sort of week…

I won’t bore you with the details, we all have them in some guise or other from time to time, let’s just say it’s been that sort of week.

But the sun has come out, it’s practically the weekend and I’m feeling a lot better, so with a bit of luck next week might be a nice simple run-of-the-mill affair and I can get back into my basic routine.

I’ll leave you with the highlights of the last couple of days…

IMAG1725It’s two years since I dug out all the irises in the garden because they weren’t producing any flowers, but surprise, surprise, look what’s happened – how’s this for tenacity – just goes to show, you can’t keep a good flower down.

IMAG1719 IMAG1712And raindrops on roses – one of my favourite things (make a good song lyric that…)

Have a good weekend.

First frosts, last roses…

We’ve had a few frosts here this week. Yesterday, I couldn’t help noticing that one of my roses was still putting out blooms.

After I’d walked the dog, I took the camera into the garden to capture the splash of colour – the frost already turned to water.

The roses have been good this year and I always feel a bit sad as we go into the winter without their rich colours to warm us up.

I thought that might have been the last, but on a closer look, I found these…


I suppose they might not make it to full bloom, but these perfect buds give me a little thrill – there’s something so beautiful about roses.

Hope you’re warm and cosy.

A Good Year For The Roses…

In which Elvis Costello sings to me every time I go into the garden…

A Good Year For The Roses

I feel as if I’ve slipped into a parallel universe at the moment.

My garden has decided to put on an incredible show of flowers – mostly roses – without me having anything at all to do with it.

I must recommend this hands-off approach to gardening – it is certainly producing better results than I’ve ever achieved through hard work and heavy expenditure on plants.

Ten years ago, when my eldest daughter started school, there was a little chap who sold plants to raise money for the school funds, and I bought half a dozen rose plants from him – they were incredibly cheap, and looked quite sickly when they arrived. My hopes were not high.

But over the years, they’ve bloomed and bloomed and bloomed.



A couple of years back, they got out of control and started to branch out across the garden. It made doing things in the borders, like pulling out the occasional weed, or retrieving a ball, fraught with danger – these roses have proper thorns.

So eventually, the husband decided to take the secateurs out and give the roses a haircut.

We deliberated. Should we go in hard and hope for the best, or should we be tentative and shave the minimum off the branches? In the end, having agreed we’d already had our money’s worth from the plants, we opted for the drastic reduction route.

He duly took the roses almost back to the ground. We sat back to see what would happen. (I’d secretly decided to treat myself to a few David Austin roses if the old ones failed).

And lo and behold – they’re better than ever before – all of them.

Now of course the husband says it’s all because of his expert pruning. But my friend who gardens for a living, tells me that everybody has a good show of roses this year – it must be the weather.

Who knows. But the damned annoying thing is that every time – and I mean every time, I go into the garden, I am instantly assailed by the sound of Elvis Costello singing the Jerry Chestnut (what sort of name is that for a songwriter?) song – A Good Year For The Roses, running through my brain.

I used to be a huge Elvis Costello fan – well about thirty years ago – eeks! But I never especially liked that record. I’ve tried going outside and whistling Oliver’s Army, but it doesn’t cut the mustard.

I suppose I’ll just have to wait it out.