8 Nov 2009

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This glorious rose grows in the back garden under the apricot tree near the clothes line.

It only seems to manage one or two blooms at a time but they are magnificent.
Huge great blousey affairs that smell divine.
It seems unperturbed by battering winds or blazing sun, just goes about her business.
A gift from mum many years ago after she visited the beautiful Culzean gardens at Westbury.
The rose was bred by the Dr Laker who restored and built the gardens from a blackberry infested field and produced a magical place worth a visit if you can.




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Kate and I spent a good deal of yesterday in and out of our front garden
Oh hasn't the weather been magnificent.
Yesterday was mercifully free from lawn mower droning in the neighbourhood and apart from the occasional car and the sounds from a sweet little toddler next door we were treated to all the spirngtime choruses and trills of the resident birds.

We read and knitted and talked and snoozed a little, well only the old lady of the house snoozed and I don't think I was noticed.
Andy was at cricket and Stephen was fiddling about fixing fly screens.



And we have reached that time of year when the washing dries in a trice and smells oh so good, a mix of sunshine, soap and flowers.

The time of year when the windows are all thrown open ( hence Stephen flyscreen activity) and the house and the garden just meld into one.

The time of the year when all Stephen's hard work in the garden means we too have a magical place to while away the afternoon.




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