Mum loves her roses. She has been growing every kind of rose here ever since I can remember and they are always beautiful. Part of my childhood. She always used to send back to my flat in London with roses. Sometimes she would send me back with cats.
🏵 😺 🏵 😺 🏵 😺 🏵 😺 🏵 😺 🏵 😺 🏵
Rosa ragosa (white) – Rosa rugosa ‘Alba’
Wild foxgloves grow around the garden too. Mum “rescues” them!
“The Magician” – a climbing rose that never climbed!
Félicité et Perpétue (a rambling rose that used climb the chains like Queen Mary’s garden in Regent’s Park, London). This rose has been here since the 1960’s.
“Gypsy Boy” (a climber)
Swan Lake – a modern climber, utterly perfect but absolutely no scent which, for me, is the biggest disappointment. I love the shape but I so it want to smell right.
Parade – a climbing rose
Seagull – a rambler that has actually rambled!
Josephine Bruce – this rose smells divine, a very pure rose scent.
It has been raining and the garden smells lovely. A deep rose scent surrounds us.
And this is a nose by any other name (!) – Pip is on top form and our early morning walks are a delight.
Meanwhile, Daisy sent me this photo. She is riding my old Icelandic horse, Haakon. Apparently they went up to the canter track and back for a good old plod.
Meanwhile, BeAnne has been doing her yoga. Apparently this is her interpretation of “downward dog”.