Last summer, a new neighbour gave us some (very useful) old plant pots and a gnarled piece of wood. Rejects from the previous owner’s regime. Turned out the wood had roots, and was the base of an ancient rose bush. Would it grow? Would it flower? Although it looked most unpromising, we planted it in a large container and forgot about it over the winter.
Until this week, it looked doomed, the only signs of life being a few weedy stems bearing somewhat spotty leaves and equally unappealing buds. Then the first flower appeared. Followed by the second. Different colours. And inevitably, a third, a different colour again! What was going on?
Obviously I don’t know much about this. I tried to dredge up any faint memories or scraps of knowledge about grafting or scions or rootstock. Nothing took shape. Then, one of those strange internet coincidences: I saw a picture of a rose called Chicago Peace, which had flowers of different colours! When I checked it out, I found that, in fact, Chicago Peace looks more orange or pink than this one, which is predominantly yellow. So, I think it’s probably a variety called, simply, Peace. Which I like, because I can remember my father mentioning that one when I was a child. It’s also known as Rosa ‘Madame A. Meilland’.
Of course, I could be wrong, and would love to know if anyone can positively identify it!
Here are links to some information about Peace:
A lot of yellow around in the garden at the moment.
Even if the weather leaves a lot to be desired!
I love it.
A blaze of daffodils captured on my visit to Sheriff Hutton.
Just when I thought this raw, rain-sodden winter would never end, I found that these few miniature daffodils had returned. They stand, in single file, pointing towards Spring…
It’s been raining so much lately and the mornings and evenings are dark. So the best way to photograph flowers was to head to a conservatory.
I found these: Brugmansia (or angel’s trumpet). I’d never seen them or heard of them before. Showy yet understated; subtle festoons of pale yellow. Each one a silent angel’s trumpet…
Here’s a link to the RHS for more information. I’m just going to let the pictures speak for themselves.
…but probably not for much longer.
Beautiful yellow poppies that flowered all summer and are still around even in November; they’re a cheering sight when I arrive home from work on a dark autumn afternoon. I hope they can stay around for a few more weeks, although they are looking somewhat tired by now. December?
I’m now a fan!
I didn’t know anything about growing freesias. They always seemed so exotic and delicate: blooms to be nurtured in a hothouse or glimpsed in a prize-winning display. Probably beyond my rudimentary gardening skills, and yet … something attracted me to the prospect.
Vaguely, somewhere in my early memories, I can visualise a perfume bottle with (I think) a pale yellow top, calling to me from my mum’s dressing table; I suspect I must have liked that particular fragrance because I can remember putting on far too much of it. I’m sure it was Freesia by Yardley of London. Who knows whether I had permission? I certainly caused some amusement. Freesias. Freesia. When I heard the name as a small child, I imagined it to have something to do with freezing.
So I planted some freesia bulbs, a chance find in a discount supermarket, not sure what to expect. I was rewarded with beautiful flowers in four different colours but, as far as I could detect, no smell. Bees loved them. They’ve finished flowering now, so I need to find out what to do next; this link looks like a reasonable place to start: