The house in the roses

Yes, as some of you might have thought, our Mima and Papa had journeyed up north to spend a few days with us girls.  We celebrated birthdays, laughed, danced, sung, jumped on the trampoline until our sides hurt and pretended we were real fairies and princesses.  We made some lovely birthday banners and decorations for our birthday party on Saturday and make some yummy cakes.  Elsa, from Frozen 'land' visited.  She taught us how to behave as true princesses and be proper at all times.  On Sunday we visited a petting zoo.  We got to touch and feed a very tall camel that spit on us, we petted and fed tiny horses and lots of baby goats, and a nice lady, keeper of the animals, let us pet the only sloth there was.  He was as slow and funny looking as all the funny sloths on that movie we saw the previous day.  Then, in the afternoon, we went by the house in the roses...  well, just only our Mima, because she wanted to go all by herself, to gather up in the hem of her long skirts all the moments, and joys and disappointments her little heart could muster upon entering her once upon a time, lovely garden...  ask her, and she'll tell you what she saw, and heard and felt in her precious garden... 

While there, she thought about all of you her dear bloggy friends who have followed her to her little white cottage, down in the south from the time she dwelled in her gardens, at the house in the roses...  She told us that long, thorny weeds grew everywhere there.  Among the roses, around the once lovely Shasta daisies gardens and the salvia and lavender.  The ornamental grasses were so unkempt, they grew like long weeds and her dear rose bushes were in really bad shape, some of them had disappeared entirely.  How did that happen, she didn't know.  The grapevines grew rampant; suffocating every space and taking over the pretty archers.  Weeds and little trees were growing where they were not supposed to, suffocating the climbing roses growing in the pergola in the round garden.  It broke her heart to see all the peonies bushes she planted in the rotunda being suffocated by weeds and such, but she was also happy to see how much they have grown and how round and healthy they were. 

If you ask me, I don't understand my Mima.  Even under such circumstances and negligence and carelessness, she still finds those gardens of hers a lovely place to be and a verdant and precious island of peace and enchantment like a gem hiding under rubbish... you go tell her she doesn't need to worry.  She will always have flowers to grow and roses to perfume her soul... 'cause that's how I feel, and that's how it is...  

The house in the roses

Once upon a time... there was a garden...

There were numbers of standard roses which had so spread their branches that they were like little trees. There were other trees in the garden, and one of the things which made the place look strangest and loveliest was that climbing roses had run all over them and swung down long tendrils which made light swaying curtains, and here and there they had caught at each other or at a far-reaching branch and had crept from one tree to another and made lovely bridges of themselves.

There were neither leaves nor roses on them now and Mary did not know whether they were dead or alive, but their thin gray or brown branches and sprays looked like a sort of hazy mantle spreading over everything, walls, and trees, and even brown grass, where they had fallen from their fastenings and run along the ground. It was this hazy tangle from tree to tree which made it all look so mysterious.

Mary had thought it must be different from other gardens which had not been left all by themselves so long; and indeed it was different from any other place she had ever seen in her life. "How still it is!" she whispered. "How still!" Then she waited a moment and listened at the stillness.

The robin, who had flown to his treetop, was still as all the rest. He did not even flutter his wings; he sat without stirring, and looked at Mary. "No wonder it is still," she whispered again. "I am the first person who has spoken in here for ten years."

She moved away from the door, stepping as softly as if she were afraid of awakening some one. She was glad that there was grass under her feet and that her steps made no sounds. She walked under one of the fairy-like gray arches between the trees and looked up at the sprays and tendrils which formed them. "I wonder if they are all quite dead," she said. "Is it all a quite dead garden? I wish it wasn't."

A rainy Sunday morning

A rainy morning.  I spent the weekend surrounded by dear friends, in fellowship, listening to the Word of God and laughing a whole lot.

On Sabbath morning, I wore the pretty, lacey handkerchief skirt that my husband gave me for Mother's Day...

I adore this wispy, frilly skirt that's abundant in lace and white loveliness all throughout...

For shoes, I chose my favoritest pair of high heels in the whole wide world... I had have these shoes almost forever.  I should move on, and gift them away, but I find myself attached to them and would not part from them for nothing in the world... for some very strange reason, they make me feel like Cinderella in her glass slippers... they are my magical shoes.  I was remembering that this 'strange' love goes a long way back and I've been talking about these shoes for as far as I can remember.... you can click HERE, if you care to read what I had to say of them long, long time ago when we were still living at the house in the roses.... ;) 

I should had gone for a pedi, but I didn't... what I did, was having my nails done... choosing the right color, however, was so hard... so many options, and every color a lovely dream...  which one would you have chosen?

I finally chose this pretty 'summer' pink...  it is so bright, and cheerful, and I just love it...

...in the wet, rain-darkened garden, everything is super green, and every tree and every bush hold a raindrop on emerald leafy hand...

The gladiolus that my dad and I planted two years ago when we moved here are embellishing the garden in full magenta and yellow magic.

They are as tall as I've ever seen gladiolus, and are lovingly blooming here and there, like gracious jewels gifted by the gods who hide in the garden and hover above all...

I see the winds of change blowing on a certain way, and thus I spent the firsts hours of my day after waking up thinking, and wondering, and browsing the internet absentmindedly, looking through page after page of homes for sale in our area that have a basement, or a mother in law suit or homes large enough where we could accommodate mom and dad and go for the big move.  But all of them lacked charm, and I ambled through our quiet, little white cottage looking at everything we've done here, and everything we love, and of those we love, and simply found myself short on every thing.  The sweeping view of the garden outside our dinning room welcomed me to the morning...

...and gave me the certainty that everything is going to be fine, no matter what...

Thank you for being here, for listening, and being one more friend among my dear friends...

Life in the little white cottage

It is so nice to be back, safe and sound, after our long journey to South Florida.  Back to our rained-down little white cottage and to a mess of a garden, where weeds have gone rampant in just those few days we were away...  

I always imagine weeds watching out for me, hiding behind bushes, or from under the ground, talking among each other in hushed little voices as I go about the garden pulling those braves one who have dared come out, out of my garden forever.  The minute they don't see me around, they'd all go out... one by one, and throw a loud party.  All of their instruments will come out, whistles and tambourines, and musical instruments come to light, while the weeds sing and dance to the beat of their music. 

So that's what I've been doing this morning... pulling weeds, and throwing away all those precious potted annuals that didn't make it without my constant care... sad, but I'm learning to move on, to not be bothered by the little things in life, as much as I used to.  It is a happier, more effective way of living.  It is a happier life indeed, not having to worry about the little, unimportant things, and I need to take this philosophy to the human sphere too, because the little garden of my heart is quite a mess too these days, with worries about my ageing parents and all those people I love... I worry too much because I love too much.  But in the depth of my soul I die a little bit with each worry.  I harvest too much inside me, and that abundance have always hurt me exceedingly.  I am learning.

I LOVE HOW Nature keeps a timer all of its own... there's a time for everything under the sun, so it's been said, and each wildflower knows this too... they know exactly when is their time to shine and their tine to rest.... right now, it is the time for the daylily and iris to shine, and they are all in bloom, pervading the garden with gentle delicatessens and precious loveliness...

The yellow golden ragwort wildflowers of early spring are done, but I've kept a reminder of them as mementos of another year gone to memories, until the following spring...

These days, it definitely is rose bouquet season around here.

I prefer to leave my roses in their bushes, and only bring them inside when they're passed their glories...  it is my way of enjoying them for an extended, longer time...

If I bring them inside while at their prime I will only enjoy them for just a few days, but if I let them be, the joy will last longer....

It is safe to bring some roses inside these days now... 

I don't have many tea roses as I used to back at the house in the roses, because it is hard to cultivate them here in the humid, hot south, but the Knock-out roses are something else.   They're the queens of the south and are so prolific here, it does not matter how much you take of them or how hard you go with your pruning...  you just cut, knowing that soon you'll have yet another bout of showy re-bloom.  

These tiny, perfect buds of the prettiest pink little roses are something else...  

Again, not the tea roses I am so fond us, but these rose bushes, low, and expanding in nature, are brimming with thousands upon thousands of little roses in the sweetest of delicious pink.  Dozens of miniature, perfect pink roses in just one stem... they are quick repeat bloomers too, and fungal disease resistant, and I can always fill many vases, without the guilt.

Sometimes, when everything is quiet in the garden and no bird's song is to be heard, there are times when I hear an unidentified sound... a song? A wail? A call?  And it's the 'wee-wee' cry of a baby fairy.  And sometimes, I'm rush to think it may be the squirrels up above the canopies, or the voice of the feral in the brambles or the baby rabbits in the deep of the woods, but today when I was standing very close to the woods, I heard it again—the 'wee-wee' wail, and when I looked up to see if I could identify where it was coming from I saw it.... a black bird, or some type of a black, common bird? 

These are long days, and somehow they're still too short of days for the soul who loves the heat-swelled hours of summer and the perfume which cling to the walls of my cottage and the walls of my soul in sweet moments... my heart writes nothing except sentences full of sunshine and the scent of the privet flowers and warm rain. I drink green juices and have a salad for lunch and write, then take pictures, then work some more, and sometimes, I get to sit in the quiet garden and read, and listen to the birds that sing restlessly over-emerald shrubbery and sapphire skies; and keep on waiting and hoping upon their Creator for their livelihood. 

I have all your lovely names deciphered now, for those of you who asked. You can find them on a couple of posts below.   I don't know, we may have to open up a new page all by it self just for name aesthetics... what do you think?  It's so much fun! ;)

Thank you for participating and for coming by. I appreciate all of you, and love every comment left behind. Be blessed!

The front porch

Color plays a big part when decorating a porch. It pulls it together and makes it work if you have a pleasing palette.  Ever since we moved to our little white cottage about two years ago, I've been changing the way things look there quite a bit.  From this pretty palette of blues and turquoise, to white, to black.

A cottage will usually have lighter, softer pastel colors, but I wanted to blend things up a little to make it work with the colors of the cottage, which are the whites of the walls, black shutters and the red door.  So this year, I kept the same colors I already had there the previous year.  I only added a few things.  New pillows that are really not new in the whole sense of the word because I got them at a second-hand store, along with this super cute 'old' but new to me, cow throw, which I adore.  And it has all the right colors too!

The focal point and main pop of awesomeness there this year, however, are the lovely Endless Summer, blue hydrangeas, which, after two years of being planted are finally getting established and producing an enormous amount of amazing, beautiful blooms...

The roses on this photograph were starting to bloom, earlier on the year, and things were not as lush as they are right now...  

I love coming here on early mornings.  It's like coming out to a brand new world and stand on the tip of this world to wait on God.  To be welcomed to the new day by the Creator Himself.

Some of the new things I also added to our porch this spring are the two thrift store chairs I painted and upholstered, using a cute little dress.  You can read the story HERE, if you like.

Looking lovely sitting on the porch

The potted geraniums are the same from last year.  They are planted on a smaller pot, that I keep inside the larger pot so I can bring them in during the winter.  I took care of these geranium all throughout the winter.  I never gave up, and they are now doing splendidly...

I have planted hostas in that same bed. These hostas were not doing well last year and had signs of pest infestation, but I am learning.  Hostas are relatively resistant to insects and other pests, but nematodes, weevils, grasshoppers and snails, can make a meal out of these popular perennials.  I am in the look for these critters and removing them by hand.  It is the most effective way..

Red door.  Red geraniums

These inexpensive Halloween, witch's caldrons turned into hanging baskets have some ivy geranium growing in it.  The birds must love them too, for they have chosen to build their nests there.  I was quite surprised the other day as I started to water the pots and a frantic mama bird almost crashed right onto my face... I didn't know she had her nest there and felt so terrible afterwards thinking I could had drown the wee ones...  I still haven't mustered the courage to look in and investigate...

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The Iceberg roses I planted in front of the holly hedge when we moved here are all in bloom right now, bending down with the weight of pearl-white beauties over the path that leads to the front of the house... like a snowy carpet, letting visitors know they're welcome. 

I find that these roses are some spindly things, with long, thin canes and a low profusion of bloom.  I am not too happy with this outcome and haven't been able to figure out why is this so. They get all the necessary amount of sunshine and care, and still seem to resist aiming for excellency.

Petal-covered path love...

And here it is... the cottage surrounded by trees seen from the top of the road... trees bordering all its corners.  It is a circle of perpetually flowering privet trees, surrounding an area of green grass and red roses.  I just can't love it any more... so so in love with our little white cottage and so very thankful for the simple life we live.  

We'll be heading down to FL early tomorrow morning and won't be able to post for a few days, but I will be reading.  It was fun creating the name aesthetics of all your beautiful names...  you can still leave a message on the previous post if you want to have your own name deciphered.  I'll be happy to work on that after we come back....

See you then!