So, now I’m back on an up. Or a “level” I prefer to think.
I spent a few hours yesterday looking up roses. See the house we moved into is a delightful, truly delightful Cottage (Called “The Cottage”. I wanted to call it Rhino Hall but the men of the family said no, and no also to Hippo Hall saying it would basically just mean “The Fat Cottage”). It was built by a carpenter with his son when he returned from the war, on the site of their carpentry workshop. It’s a very atypical house for England: built with love, with a massive personality, and specifically wood everywhere, so very solid and sturdy. I love it and have no intention of budging away from here for a long, long time.
Anyhow. There is a small garden at the back and one at the front. The front garden faces North-West, so the original owner I think planned a lovely winter’s garden, with pines and shrubs and different types of holly-related plants. Then came someone else who scattered all sorts of bulbous stuff which had pretty much taken over the garden and made a mess.
So, compatibly with Derbyshire’s green bin collection schedule, I have been clearing out the random stuff and keeping what I like and we have added a couple of colourful plants in the back. In the front I have cleared and cleared and my next step is filling it with roses.
I love roses.
My neighbour, David, who has a wonderful garden, said with confidence when I asked about roses to go check out David Austin‘s website. THE English authority on roses.
Yesterday I spent some time looking through his website and found myself extremely disappointed. I mean, is this what roses look like these days?
Don’t get me wrong, this is an exquisite flower. But I like roses, and roses in my head (and in other people’s gardens when I look at them) look like this:
So yeah that was a bit of a strange revelation.
I am looking for a specific type of climbing old rose and haven’t found it yet, that will be interesting work.
So, my future life will be finding something to help me dismiss thoughts and concentrate become I am getting very very bad at it, and I need to finish translating 4 more of my father’s 5 final books as well as the revision of the current book. This will save me from having to go out to work and still make me feel like I’m contributing to the family’s finances, ’cause it’s very cool that my husband is happily getting freelance illustration work on top of his full time work in Sheffield but I do feel a little guilty. Then, plant roses. Roses that will climb over the ugly dead stumps the landlady left, roses to climb over the crumbling old fences, roses to stand proud in my garden, facing the pub, so people can look at our garden as they sip their beers and say “look at those lovely roses”.
So, that’s my future planned, and it’s looking rosy.