Every Year in October, my father wrote a poem to my mother on her birthday. Many were centred around one of their mutual passions, their garden. I like to think, if they could see our garden this year they might think ‘not bad’. June has been glorious and so, shamelessly here are a few more images to enjoy… oh and of course, Dad’s poem
On your special day, my love, the world is touched with brightness,
As the slow October sun, warm and drowsy as a child,
Floods the garden with rich golden light.
Along the tangled ancient hedge, bees quest and murmur in the ivy flowers,
And butterflies, with quivering wings, grow tipsy on the juice of tumbled apples,
Soft-decaying in the dappled orchard grass.
Late roses, petalled pink and red, beckon from the secret corners which are your delight,
While clematis, unscathed as yet by chilly nights, still clambers skywards,
Gleaming star-like through the shady shrubs.
So, nature smiles Her thanks to you today, remembering your gentleness, and loving care,
And I, who love you very much, smile too, but cannot speak,
Lest foolish tears betray a trembling heart.
Lovely, and such beautiful gardens!
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❤ Thanks for sharing.
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A beautiful garden, Geoff.
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ThanksJohn
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What a romantic, your father! He and your mother would most surely revel in your garden.
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I like to think they’d be very happy there
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Ab fab! 💐🌸💮🏵🌹🌼🌻🌺🌷🥀
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Ah I’m just a lucky guy
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Your garden is such a treasure. And the beautiful poem of your father and the pictures go along so wonderfully. I agree, the June heat made the flowers grow and bloom in high-speed.
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They have gone pretty bonkers…
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Haha, true!!
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Wow–I see the apple didn’t fall–er, tumble–far from the tree! Lovely poem of your father’s, and just a gorgeous garden!
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He was a real poet. Mine is just polished doggerel
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Modesty will get you nowhere, Geoff!
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no but it may garner more compliments *swoon…
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Your dad’s poem , your garden , perfect. Thank you Geoff🙂
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Pleasure as always
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🌈💜🌈💜
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Not bad. What a romantic. I am trying to visualise my grandfather way back then in his usual black singlet, army surplus shorts and gumboots reciting poetry, nah not happening!! So, my big question is, did the romantic gene pass down to you?
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It did. I am always a sucker for the romantic gesture some of which receive a wry smile
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I don’t think any of this is too bad
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It’s not that shabby, ‘tis true…
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Beautiful garden!
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Thanks Jennie
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You’re welcome, Geoff.
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Your garden is amazing, Geoff. It looks like a lot of work and a lot of love. Your Dad’s poem is a lovely gift.
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Not bad at all. Nice to see where you get your gift for words from too.
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Ah you are very kind but I’m working my way towards his level…
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Well on that evidence, he’s set the bar very high, but I think you’d make him very proud (pink hiking socks aside, obviously).
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Obv, he never thought I had any dress sense unless it was a suit. Probably right too…
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I like the idea of the poem on the birthday–Come away to the skies/My beloved arise/ and rejoice in the day thou wast born! You’re garden looks like something I’d have to buy tickets to get into. The flowers! The lawn is really amazing and looks as though someone rolls it…I imagine Dog enjoys it greatly, not just the humans.
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Ah the lawn… with help and guidance it’s been a five year project that I’m rather pleased with…
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Well, you should be. It’s Vanderbilt grass. Duke of Devonshire grass. I’d like to roll on it, myself.
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When you’re next in London give me a bell….
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Will do.
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Ah the problems folks could solve with decent weather, a large pot of good tea, plenty of time and this garden bench to think from.
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lots of thinking time; I’m of the Pooh Bear philosophy when it comes to thinking… ‘sometimes I sits and thinks, and sometimes I just sits’…
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