Say It With Flowers

My father was a flamboyant gardener.  When he was landlord at The Eagle and Child, he won Best Kept Pub in Lancashire several times.  He had wonderful climbing roses, draped over rustic fencing that he constructed himself. In the foreground, rows of bright red geraniums, interspaced with blue lobelia and white allysum. So patriotic.

 

When he and Mum retired, they moved several times before settling in a small terraced house with a walled garden. He wasted no time - whitewashed the walls, built trellis and planted his beloved roses. He also planted a Clematis Montana and within a couple of yeas it was producing a mass of glorious pink blooms. 

Dad died in 1998 and my Mum remained in the little house until she reached the grand old age of 97. She left the house to me and although the roses have mostly gone to wood, the clematis continues to thrive. This year it has produced at least 3,000 flowers and came into full bloom on 1st May, which coincidentally is the date Dad died. Perhaps it isn't a coincidence at all. We have a day off to remember him and a flamboyant display to celebrate his life. 

Le Bal des Fleurs

When Rhododendron fall to seed,
peonies droop their heavy, windswept heads,
the daffodils are silent for another year
and nature holds her breath.

Almost unnoticed, flecks of burgundy appear,
jasmine stars light up the backdrop fence
and Summer spills onto the stage
with honeysuckle bursting into bloom.

The Corps de Ballet, dance in from the wings,
prance and plié to the warm breeze suite,
and quickly spread to fill the border space.
A rush of tutus: pure white marguerite.

Delphinium in fifty shades of blue,
waltz with lupins dipped in dew.
interlacing gossamer gypsophila,
shimmers in the sunlight beams.

Climbing peace with lemon tips,
cascading pastel limbs from rustic arch
fragrance the air. In the footlights,
a parade of scarlet: Geraniums stand guard.

Scented stocks collect in shady corners,
wearing vibrant pink and lilac frocks.
Gladiolas splay their spectral heads:
Yellow, through to flaming reds.

Now the colour reaches a crescendo.
Against the turquoise, cloudless sky,
baskets overflow, mood indigo
while fuchsia ballerinas pirouette.

As finale, arum lilies centre stage,
perform a gentle Pas des Deux,
taking bows as dusky curtain falls,
first him, then her.

Thanks for reading. Adele