Showing posts with label solstice. Show all posts
Showing posts with label solstice. Show all posts

Sunday, 1 July 2018

Beautiful June


Hello again, it's been a while since I dropped by and in the meantime, the seasons have moved from spring to glorious summer. And I have to say it has been absolutely wonderful in these parts. The lack of rain has meant that watering takes up most of my evenings, and our new water butt ran dry over a week ago, but we can't say it wasn't a lovely June. The solstice and Midsummer's Day were marked by me as always with roses and candles, and I try not to remember that the days are now shortening, but prefer to focus on enjoying this fabulous time of year when the evenings seem to go on forever. 


I've loved coming home from work every day and heading for the garden to potter about deadheading things and staking plants. But by far my favourite summer evening activity of all is smelling the flowers, especially the roses. 


They have been beautiful this year, and fill the borders and walls with the most luscious blooms and perfume. Here's lovely Gertrude Jekyll filling the air with the smell of Turkish Delight.



This year was the turn of New Dawn to shine. We've lived in our house for 20 years now, and some of these roses were here when we moved in. I don't do much to them apart from pruning in spring, and New Dawn hasn't been touched all year. But it has rewarded us with a profusion of flowers this year, all scrambling around the front door and heading on up the wall. This photo was taken just before it got dark, when the pale blooms shone out in the dusk.


Here in daylight you can see the pretty soft pink of the petals.


It has a delicate tea-like perfume, quite different to Gertrude.


Many-petalled William Shakespeare was as richly-scented as ever,


and along with graceful Mortimer Sackler,  


a rose which the label said was Guinee (but which doesn't seem to be dark enough), grows up the back of the garage. It's also flowered more than ever this summer.




Our garden isn't attached to the back of our terraced house, as a shared access way and garages lie between them, a common layout for Somerset cottages. So my first sight of the garden is always revealed as I round the corner of the garage. When the roses are in bloom they frame my shed prettily.


Temperatures have risen here to over 30 degrees on many days recently, and while I adore the sunshine I usually like to find a shady place to sit. On a bench just outside my shed is perfect, and it's here that I've squeezed in a bit of crochet when I can.


The roses inspire me at this time of year to be creative, and this year I made a pretty crocheted wreath to hang in our house using Lucy's May Rose pattern.


I was very happy with the finished result, as I'd tried to match the colours to the roses that we grow.


Another rose-inspired activity was my annual baking of rose petal shortbread. I've made this for years, as you can see herehere and here.


I made a big batch and took some to work to share with my fellow teaching assistants at break time with our coffee. I had plenty left over to share with everyone at home too. There are five of us at home for the summer now, so the house is full again. J is home again before he starts post-graduate study next year, and B is here too. And our D, our youngest, is heading off to uni in September. 


I always think that if each month has a colour, then June's is definitely pink, and a deep pink at that. So many of the flowers in bloom in June seem to be this colour, and with them comes the warmth. This rose campion is a new addition this year, and it's flowers are such a bright pink that they don't look real against their silvery foliage.


The peonies were wonderful, and over very quickly in the heat. Blowsy and abundant, they were glorious.


There have been other lovely perennials too: spotty foxgloves;


yellow flag iris;


Iris Sibirica;


pale pink oriental poppies;


sunlit chives;


my favourite allium, rose garlic;


delicate purple greanium;


pink and silver spiky astrantia;


my first go at growing helichrysums


and deliciously-scented pinks. Their clove-like perfume is so strong that it drifts around the garden on the evening air while I'm watering.



Back to roses again, and the stripy, raspberry-ripple petals of rosa mundi unfold as the other roses are past their best and extend the rose season in our garden.



And here's a warning - if you don't like creepy-crawlies, look away now. This little crab spider has been living in the blooms of rosa mundi for days now. It doesn't make a web, but catches its prey instead. I found it holding a dead bee last week.


And I found this gorgeous white ermine moth on the side of my shed. Isn't it a rather sophisticated and classy moth?


Our tiny pond has gone from strength to strength, as I've surrounded it with lots of foliage this year to make it more wildlife-friendly. You can just about see the water under the marsh marigold leaves. I'm hoping that the tadpoles that have grown from frog and newt spawn donated by a friend are growing into frogs now.


It's been 4 years now since I started blogging and, although I'm not as regular a blogger as I used to be, this little corner of the internet is still important to me as a place where I can share all the flowery and creative things that make me happy and that I know you get too, dear readers. So before I go I'd like to say thank you if you still drop by from time to time - it's much appreciated xxx



Thursday, 21 December 2017

Midwinter

Midwinter. There's something about this word that I love. It conjures up images of frosty days,  glowing fires, berried greenery, dark woods, shadows, ghost stories and above all quiet. The winter solstice, when it comes is for me very welcome, and is a moment of stillness amid the madness of pre-Christmas celebrations. Having said that, today here at the House with the Blue Door is a busy day of tidying, cleaning and generally making sure that everything is ready for Christmas, and our guests. Nevertheless, I am making sure to light some scented candles and reflect for a moment or two on the fact that we're at the darkest point of the year, and that the days will now get lighter as the earth starts to turn towards the sun - hooray!


Yesterday P and I went shopping in Frome, a pretty town not far from here. I had a very productive time buying some last-minute presents and finally some berried greenery. There doesn't seem to be much holly with berries on it in the florists at the moment, but I managed to find some.



Here I am looking very pleased with myself after finding some mistletoe, rosehips and red-berried foliage.


As it was almost lunchtime, we stopped off for coffees, and a mince pie for P and a pastel de nata (one of my favourites) for me. Very nice too.


 While we were shopping I bought this little collection of 10 poems with an evergreen theme, and am looking forward to reading them with a cup of tea later.


I do so love the different shapes and colours of winter greenery. It's just as lovely as spring and summer flowers, but is very different - more structural and striking, and the berries are so bright. I'm especially fond of mistletoe. Its simple green and white combination is a beautiful contrast to all the rich and sparkly colours of Christmas. I also like its connections with our distant past, and the fact that it grows in orchards on apple trees. It's a fascinating plant all round. 


In my little midwinter arrangement is also some winter-flowering honeysuckle which I grow in a pot next to our back door. When the year is at its drabbest and spring still seems so far away it's gorgeous scent is a treat when I'm popping outside for something. I stop and inhale its sweet scent on the cold air and think of warmer days to come.



Here's some more winter greenery, spotted on a recent run in the woods. I love the shape of ivy very much and was particularly taken with this rather pointy-leaved plant. There's still so much to enjoy outside at this time of year if you look for it.


Right, better get back to the Christmas cleaning now! See you soon, and happy solstice! x

Wednesday, 21 December 2016

The Shortest Day

Hello again, and thank you all for your kind comments - it's very nice to be back. Now that we have broken up for the holidays a sense of comparative calm has descended, and already we have reached the shortest day. I love the winter solstice, with it's cold, clear skies and promise of longer, warmer days to come. You can read about why I enjoy this time of year so much here and here.



It's all about light and the celebration of its return at this dark time of year, and I do love to light candles, making the house cosy and warm.



Returning home on a dark afternoon, putting the heating on and switching on the Christmas lights is such a pleasure. I love to make things look twinkly and welcoming when the light levels are so low outside.





There's some greenery and foliage too, to brighten our home with growing things. The hyacinth smells wonderful.


This week I've had time to concentrate on home life and have been busy with our Christmas preparations. At the weekend we went shopping in Wells, and I felt the usual sense of peacefulness that this beautiful place induces. It's medieval architecture is just right for me at Christmas time.




I imagine centuries of people sitting on this worn window seat.


Above our heads starlings were chattering and roosting in the trees as light levels fell.


I hosted a little get-together earlier in the week with four of my best friends who I've now known for over two decades; a festive craft session in which we made some table decorations and clove-studded oranges. I gathered lots of greenery from the garden, having already bought some mistletoe and crab apples. Here it all is ready for my guests. 


I added heather from the garden this year, as well as purple callicarpa berries, cranberries and some bright red and white candles.


We drank mulled wine and ate mince pies and snacks, and it was all very jolly and convivial. 



So jolly and convivial, in fact, that I completely forgot to take any photos of the event itself! Here instead is my finished table centrepiece, with some added feathers brought by one of my lovely guests. We made clove-studded oranges too. Their fragrant, spicy scent is the smell of Christmas for me.  And with the left-over foliage I'm going to make a wreath for the front door.


Hope you're finding some time to relax during your festive preparations too x