‘O Rose thou art sick…’ William Blake, The Sick Rose
From this……to this
This summer, the westerland rose is not as it was. Huge multiple blooms are this year a third the size. Only one or two pale flowers on each stem will bloom while the others wither away. Small stems sprouting from the branches blacken and die. This is despite my efforts to prune well in winter and to remove any dieback. I have fed it and watered it – perhaps too little too late.
In contrast, the iceberg has formed an arch across the drive. I can walk under it and smell the roses at nose level.
A fall of snow may be a sign of Christmas in the Northern Hemisphere. Here in the antipodes, the white flowers on the myrtle are one sure sign that Christmas is near. Another is the vigorous Iceberg (haha) rose.
Despite being pruned in July to the height of the trellis, the rose has just about doubled its size to form an arch over the drive.
Balm for the troubled soul, as I worry about Mum and how we will manage when she comes home, and hope she will be fit enough to enjoy our Christmas and summer family events.
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Anne-O-tations 