A trip back in time:Okay now this is a bit of a stretch but hey that's what Floral Friday is all about. I don't have any photos today but what I do have is a poem.
I wrote this in 2003 and gave it to my mother for Christmas. I'm sure she won't mind if I share it with you. Oh, it is very long.
Although there are no photos I hope you won't need them as these words, hopefully, create a whole album in your head.
This garden, this haven, this pride of my mother
From earliest memories fond visions I gather
Of flowers and fruit, of trees and soft shade
Sweet smells filled the air of this place where we played.
Crepe Myrtle so pretty, a welcoming sight
To those who entered by day or by night.
And for all of those slowed on their trip as they passed
The fence bearing roses, such a sight to the last.
I remember the lavender covered with bees
And the roses whose perfume so easily pleased.
The delicate lilac would occasionally drift
On the lightest of zephyrs and sometimes be missed
But the Daphne so strong suspended on air
Would never fail to make you aware
Of the crisp, cold, deep winter which did surround
And the sparkling frost that covered the ground
Springtime was happy with daffodil and blossom
Pink petals, like confetti, fell as branches were shaken
New sprouts would appear, if not this week then next
Cold days, less frequent, were preparing to rest.
In summer the vegetables took pride of place
Sweet tomatoes, fresh lettuce, carrot leaves like lace.
There were peas which I ate as soon as I could
And basil which smelled so rich and so good
The fruit trees were laden as the summer grew hot
Plum, peach, passion-fruit and of course, apricot
As autumn descended with insidious ease
It was time for the apples to be bottled and sealed
The cycle complete was beginning again
It's needs were simple; hot sun and cold rain
This garden of memories is with me forever
My mind is a wealth of this nature's treasure
With thanks I look back on that garden of old
Of the fruit and the flowers and the story just told
This garden where there was hard work and much play
Best of all it made childhood's happiest day.
To: Annie Margaret Emma Henshaw
Mum's house was on a small suburban block with enough room on one side for a driveway and the other for a wheelbarrow path. The backyard was not big or cluttered and somehow fitted in all of her garden and trees AND a caravan, bungalow, trailer shed, work shed and wood shed! To me, of course, it seemed enormous.
Please share with me any wonderful memories you have of gardens of old.