At last a day of sun!

April 25, 2012

From the day the hosepipe ban was announced it has rained every day for three weeks …except yesterday. Of course this is an excellent thing but it’s also a bit gloomy. Yesterday we managed to cut the grass

and I did some necessary weeding.

This is an attempt at a seventeenth century garden to complement the house, which means formal with straight lines which is what I love anyway. But I also like untamed wild  rustic beauty. The apple espaliers seem to me to combine the best of both.

6 Responses to “At last a day of sun!”

  1. Liz Collinson said

    Absolutely beautiful. Thank you for sharing this with us.

  2. leoneruth said

    Hi Victoria,
    you are surrounded by so much beauty,much of which is your own creation.The magic of your beautiful home and gardens weaves it’s way into your books, which I love.
    I love ”Stormy Weather”,by the way.
    Everything in England always looks so green…some compensation for all of the rain.
    I love you blog…

  3. Annegret said

    Per solatz revelhar,
    Que s’es trop enformitz,
    E per pretz, qu’es faiditz
    Acolhir e tornar,
    Me cudei trebalhar

    To wake delight once more
    That’s been too long asleep,
    And worth that’s exiled deep
    To gather and restore:
    These thoughts I’ve laboured for

    Guiraut de Bornelh (c. 1138 – 1215)
    Trans. A.S. Kline

  4. Annegret said

    What a splendid garden! Everyone in my family and many many friends – in Germany & Italy & here in Eastern Canada – adore your novels and your blog. I think with blog devotees it is as with mice: for every one you see in your comment section, there is an invisible multitude huddled behind the walls, preferring to enjoy the spoils of their online wanderings in the safe privacy of their nest.

  5. Annegret said

    On the last day of April … Charlotte Smith, again.

    The First Swallow

    The gorse is yellow on the heath,
    The banks with speedwell flowers are gay,
    The oaks are budding, and, beneath,
    The hawthorn soon will bear the wreath,
    The silver wreath, of May.

    The welcome guest of settled Spring,
    The swallow, too, has come at last;
    Just at sunset, when thrushes sing,
    I saw her dash with rapid wing,
    And hailed her as she passed.

    Come, summer visitant, attach
    To my reed roof your nest of clay,
    And let my ear your music catch,
    Low twittering underneath the thatch
    At the gray dawn of day.

    Charlotte Turner Smith (1749 – 1806)

  6. Annegret said

    Spring is like a perhaps hand

    Spring is like a perhaps hand
    (which comes carefully
    out of Nowhere)arranging
    a window,into which people look(while
    people stare
    arranging and changing placing
    carefully there a strange
    thing and a known thing here)and

    changing everything carefully

    spring is like a perhaps
    Hand in a window
    (carefully to
    and fro moving New and
    Old things,while
    people stare carefully
    moving a perhaps
    fraction of flower here placing
    an inch of air there)and

    without breaking anything.

    e.e. cummings (1894 – 1962)

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