Like a red, red rose

O, my luve's like a red, red rose,
That's newly sprung in June.
O, my luve's like the melodie,
That's sweetly play'd in tune.

As fair art thou, my bonie lass,
So deep in luve am I,
And I will luve thee still, my Dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry.

Till a' the seas gang dry, my Dear,
And the rocks melt wi' the sun!
O I will luve thee still, my Dear,
While the sands o' life shall run.

And fare thee weel, my only Luve,
And fare thee weel a while!
And I will come again, my Luve,
Tho' it were ten thousand mile!

Robert Burns

I'm in the mood for love poems today because the winner of this season's first-rose-to-bloom race in my garden was the perfectly-formed, incredibly fragrant Mr. Lincoln, which popped open just this morning. I like white roses best, but this one is my own hunk o' burnin' love's favorite, so it will always have a place in our garden.

Hope everyone out there is having a beautiful weekend.

Flowers for brightening a dull winter afternoon

It's 20 degrees Farenheit in my neighborhood, with snow on the ground. Earlier today, alone in the house and sorely missing my flower garden, I cruised the web to find some comforting photos and videos. I stumbled across these gorgeous pics of a cottage garden in Alaska and then found this video of a garden in Devonshire England:




As you can imagine, those lovely images banished most of my ennui. But what really cheered me up was being surprised by my hunk o' burnin' love, who came home cherry-cheeked from zipping around town in his topless MG Midget and dropped a snugly-wrapped bundle of cream-colored roses on my desk.

And here they are. Sorry about the jacket slung over the chair, the stack of garden catalogues, and that dribble of tomato soup (lower right); I'm afraid this is a typical Saturday-afternoon look for our kitchen table. And yes, the vase is too similar to the tablecloth, but these roses are going to my office just as soon as I give it a few licks with the feather duster and the vacuum cleaner.

If any of you are shopping for bridal bouquets, the creamy roses are Vindela and the antique-looking ones are Sahara. They're both imported from Ecuador.

Run for the roses

After dinner last night, my hunk o' burnin' love warned me that the weather forecast was calling for an overnight freeze. I immediately grabbed my clippers and headed out to the garden to gather one last bouquet of roses for my office. I'll have fresh flowers and flowering plants over the winter, but I won't have any more of my own roses to cut until next June, and that's always a sad thought.

Apparently, one of the David Austin Heritage roses I cut was severely depressed, because when I entered my office this morning I found that it had committed suicide by dropping all of its petals.

This guy over by the window appears to be thinking about ending it all, too.

Ah, well. At least the African violet is blooming.

Garden photo: white roses with clematis

Just beginning to bloom: A sweet tangle of Climbing White Dawn roses and clematis.