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Early this morning, we drove Sheila to Brockenhurst for her return home. Apart from Jackie’s planting , and my occasional wander round the garden on this overcast day, we spent it flopping.
We have blooming clematises
Niobe and Arabella on the kitchen wall;
Comtesse de Bouchaud sporting a fennel veil;
Durandii, making its way above geranium palmatums playing host to a bee in the rose garden;
Margaret Hunt;
and this one Jackie recovered after finding that a creature had burrowed underneath it. We had wondered why it wasn’t doing anything.
The recently flowering rhododendron blends well with the Clematis Star of India, the ubiquitous geranium palmatums, and poppies against Jackie in the background.
Here are more poppies leading us to the Rose Garden,
where Laura Ford is reflected on the side of the potting shed;
and where thrive, among others,
Shropshire Lad,
Crown Princess Margareta,
Mamma Mia,
Gertrude Jekyll,
and Mum in a Million.
This red rose was rescued from the jungle by Elizabeth;
this scarlet one stands in the Oval Bed;
and this pink one in the small triangular bed outside the stable door.
The tall scarlet rose is evident in this view of the Oval Path.
Honeysuckle
now climbs above the entrance to the Rose Garden which is visible
from the entrance to the Back Drive.
A bee is flagged up in the text. Three roses each bear a fly. Can you find them?
Mr Chatty Man provided our Hordle Chinese Take Away meal this evening. Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Chateauneuf du Pape.