Flowers. Can one ever have to many in the garden? Being a gardener who is passionate about color and movement, I have found that growing my own brings brings that “little extra something”. Glamour, whimsy, cottage garden charm.
On warm sunny days the garden is alive with activity.
Flowers sway gently in the breeze, birdsong fills the air as birds flit about. The whisper of butterflies as they flutter from flower to flower.
In the background, the quiet music of the buzzing bees.
Autumn… offering us her lovely and unique gifts as she quietly closes the door on summer then pauses.
They idyllic cottage garden. Charming, informal and somewhat untidy. Be still my fluttering heart…
February. The month when winter clings and spring begins to nudge her way in. The days are longer and brighter, soil warming even as the intermittent frosts are heavy. Buds on hydrangeas and roses begin to swell then hold. This gardeners time divided between trimming, planning and seed sowing. Rose catalogues strewn about with orders being placed. A time of hope and patience as we have one foot in winter and the other in spring.
Winter is bearing down hard, the ground frozen and unyielding. I am inclined to hibernate. Layers of sweaters and socks, lit candles and evening fires. Hearty homemade soups and bread. This is January.
They idyllic cottage garden. Charming, informal and somewhat untidy. Be still my fluttering heart…
February. The month when winter clings and spring begins to nudge her way in. The days are longer and brighter, soil warming even as the intermittent frosts are heavy. Buds on hydrangeas and roses begin to swell then hold. This gardeners time divided between trimming, planning and seed sowing. Rose catalogues strewn about with orders being placed. A time of hope and patience as we have one foot in winter and the other in spring.
Winter is bearing down hard, the ground frozen and unyielding. I am inclined to hibernate. Layers of sweaters and socks, lit candles and evening fires. Hearty homemade soups and bread. This is January.
The garden beckons to me even as I write this on a cold winters day. The fountain frozen, birds wisp by in search of scattered seed.
My preference is to stay indoors in the warmth, with the sun filtering through paned windows. A warm cup of coffee in my hands.
Yet, her draw is strong and I know that within the hour I will relent and leave this cozy nook. I will venture out into the cold, crisp air and tend to the garden as she wears her frozen cloak.