Reading Peter Corris’s article (see below) reminds me of gardens I grew up with. Both sets of my grandparents had beautiful gardens: ornamentals in front, and fruit and vegetables in the back. One of my grandfathers also had chickens in one of the neatest hen houses I remember seeing. But it’s my other grandfather’s garden I remember most clearly. Ferns in the small patch of land to the east of his home, geraniums on the west. And in the front, roses, pansies and alyssum.
At my parents home, we had roses at the front, also irises and annuals. In the back we had a wide variety of fruit and vegetables. That was fifty years ago: I wonder how all of those gardens look now?
In my home, I have three beds of roses (all scented), some camellias in pots, and two magnificent port-wine magnolias. Writing this makes me feel like spending more time in the garden: I have roses to prune (soon) and there are a number of bulbs about to flower. Winter isn’t my favourite time in the garden (that would be spring), but there is always something to see and do. I hope that Peter enjoys smelling the roses, and Jean has some space to enjoy the garden.
‘Send me dead flowers by the mail’ – Jagger/Richards I am indifferent to flowers, although I was surrounded by them at home as a child. Where I grew up, in the dreary south-eastern suburbs of Melbourne in a brick veneer house set on a quarter-acre block, there were flowers everywhere. My mother was an ardent gardener. …