Getting into the heart of spring, the garden is showing red and pink all over. In the front garden an Étoile de Hollande climbing rose greets us as we open the front door as it is entwined on the balcony railing. On a sunny day, its potent damask fragrance becomes an olfactory cloud upon which I descend down the stairs.
Taking a beauty bath in the rain makes the enormous blooms droop even more than they already do.
Below it is a weigela which finally got fertilised after many a year and is so happy. It is flushed, laden, festooned . . .
. . . but hardly burdened with tons of luscious deep-pink blooms. Though I fantasise about making the entrance steps all spiffy with tiles, I adore the pleasingly mottled design that moss and lichens have made on the cement. We inherited the heavy, bronze-coloured clay pot long ago when a neighbour in Grenoble hastily had to empty his apartment and said, Here. Have this. So I took it and eventually carted it to Angouleme. Besides being visually arresting—we refer to it as The Bell Jar—it has also helped to force rhubarb in the dark.
Rounding the east side of the house, leaving behind mini-gladioli, spikey iris foliage, and dusty-blue flowering sage, I can glimpse a part of the back garden with its wall of ivy, David Austin Flagstaff rose, wild area, raspberries, and lusty rhubarb.
Making a sharp turn around the house's corner, I come to the patio with its tubs of blueberries and bougainvillea. Calla lilies are thriving in a patio cut-out while mini-gladioli, Iris foliage, and abelia are just off the patio.
These smaller version of gladioli, unlike their larger brethren, need no staking, naturalise wherever their pink hearts desire, and are cold-hardy so digging up their bulbs for the winter and replanting in spring is not necessary.
Spring planting continues. Two green pea beds, one potato, one beet, and one carrot have been done.
Striped with white, the hybrid perpetual Ferninand Pichard has many blooms on one branch, is fragrant, and flourishes close to the patio.
Strawberry harvest has begun. The Strawberry Eater chez nous, aka The Calm One, has already polished off two bowls of just picked, sliced, sugared berries, one topped with whipped cream and the other with coffee ice cream. He says they are GOOD, sweet and full of flavour.
À la prochaine!
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How to make strawberry jam
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Individual Top-Crust Strawberry Pies With Dark Chocolate Ganache & Candied Violets
Eton mess
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Taking a beauty bath in the rain makes the enormous blooms droop even more than they already do.
Below it is a weigela which finally got fertilised after many a year and is so happy. It is flushed, laden, festooned . . .
. . . but hardly burdened with tons of luscious deep-pink blooms. Though I fantasise about making the entrance steps all spiffy with tiles, I adore the pleasingly mottled design that moss and lichens have made on the cement. We inherited the heavy, bronze-coloured clay pot long ago when a neighbour in Grenoble hastily had to empty his apartment and said, Here. Have this. So I took it and eventually carted it to Angouleme. Besides being visually arresting—we refer to it as The Bell Jar—it has also helped to force rhubarb in the dark.
Rounding the east side of the house, leaving behind mini-gladioli, spikey iris foliage, and dusty-blue flowering sage, I can glimpse a part of the back garden with its wall of ivy, David Austin Flagstaff rose, wild area, raspberries, and lusty rhubarb.
Making a sharp turn around the house's corner, I come to the patio with its tubs of blueberries and bougainvillea. Calla lilies are thriving in a patio cut-out while mini-gladioli, Iris foliage, and abelia are just off the patio.
These smaller version of gladioli, unlike their larger brethren, need no staking, naturalise wherever their pink hearts desire, and are cold-hardy so digging up their bulbs for the winter and replanting in spring is not necessary.
Spring planting continues. Two green pea beds, one potato, one beet, and one carrot have been done.
Striped with white, the hybrid perpetual Ferninand Pichard has many blooms on one branch, is fragrant, and flourishes close to the patio.
Strawberry harvest has begun. The Strawberry Eater chez nous, aka The Calm One, has already polished off two bowls of just picked, sliced, sugared berries, one topped with whipped cream and the other with coffee ice cream. He says they are GOOD, sweet and full of flavour.
À la prochaine!
RELATED POSTS
How to transplant strawberries
How to make strawberry jam
Strawberry heart scones
Individual Top-Crust Strawberry Pies With Dark Chocolate Ganache & Candied Violets
Eton mess
Strawberry shortcake
Strawberry cobbler