|Roses on the roof!|
July 21, 2021
As yet another pristine white sailboat glides through deep azure waters, I carefully place myself on the precarious perch at the top of the cliff that falls to the sea. The view from here is inspiring and breath-taking. This means most of the inspiration gets lost from not breathing.
The rocks and dangerous currents mean boats must keep a far distance from the shores but at this time of year, untrained, unseasoned and tipsy sailors often mean boats that get much too close to the rocks or a struggling sail boat getting caught in the tide. Most of us watch carefully if we think a boat is having trouble. Just a few days ago, a small fishing boat crashed into the jagged dangerous rocks on the out from BBIL's property. His beach is not a place to go walking on, at the very point of land, wild and churning waters hit the shore, every imag jagged and wear with spray. At times, I can feel the fierce of the sea under my feet, as I walk across the floors in their house.
So, just like any other beauty-filled, stunning natural place, danger lurks everywhere.
Still, another thing I enjoy is turn around the other way to face the island and road. Looking with a hard eye at the houses, trying to see what they look like to the sailing vessels from the sea.
Of course, I study our house a lot too. From the very first time I laid eyes upon the place, ages ago, my mind's eye literally was flooded with images of what I would do with that place, for it caught my eye as we drove slowly in the summer heavy, High Season traffic twenty or so years ago.
Never ever did any hint of dreams or feelings did I think we would be living there. Then, it had a fine stand of healthy second growth forest. It needed it too.
Although it is completely understandable and forgivable that no progress has been made with my sketches and diagrams for the major landscape touches the place needs soooo badly, I still get so impatient with the lack of progress on the big changes.
Then, thinking about my roses, left behind back home, there went my good mood for a good part of the morning. Our children gave me some of the most glorious roses from one of my best-loved places: The Antique Rose Emporium in Brenham, Texas. I have been in love with this place since we lived in Bryan-College Station. Their gardens were one of the best places for visiting and on-line you can see them in their garden tours.
Leaving those roses was pretty close to the loss of leaving my grandchildren so far away. My husband was too sick to notice my crying in the dark yard by the roses our daughter-in-law chose for me because she just knew I would love them. She was so insightful and intuitive. This made me love those roses even more and I loved them all. I often wish she truly knew what those roses meant to me.
Of course, now, ordering roses from Brenham, Texas will be just a touch problematic. On many levels.
I rembered thinking briefly, trying to ask those involved, about what exactly was I supposed to do to find Himself something to keep him busy and occupied if he got better. Most everyone else was pretty sure he was going to die here. Our boys believed strongly, being here would keep him alive and get better as might be possible.
Well, he has taken full control over everything remotely related to gardens and flowers. Before, he happily built raised gardens, dug holes, planted bushes and trellises and ran twine for Morning Glories to climb up and Moonflowers to climb down.
I do not like formal, straight angle, gardening. I like a variation of British-French-Southern Cottage. A little wild, untamed. By the timeline left, all our front yard had been turned into a meadow of wild flowers. The centre piece of the front yard was our hundred plus years old Sugar Maple. Our eldest son paid a small fortune with hitting a Master Arborist to care for that beautiful tree. (Birthday gift to me, so I could make sure it was well-cared for).
And that is another thing. The gifts our children give me. Back home they were mine. In the sense I did not have to explain or justify them at all.
The boys are sweet and spontaneous and like to surprise people they love. Generous to a fault.
Plus, they trusted me and my "visions" for my house and gardens wherever I live.
I have a large framed of our eldest son's house (over one hundred and forty years old) and gardens and trees by a framed photograph of our house in Oldham County.
That is my inspiration board for here. Yesterday I got a bit cranky about how much I hate windows without panes, or are so-called modern. Our son's house has all its original Windows and I spent a lot of money restoring our seventy year old Dutch Colonial Windows back home.
What to do with big blank glaring hunks of glass? Cover them up!
The few roses I have are being trained to climb the walls and across the windows up the roof.
I put my foot down just before that Heatwave From Hell as to my non-negotiable plans for six trees to be planted in the front. BabyBoy II started on this project when he was here. A few days ago, BBIL was here and he suddenly asked me about a joke our son made with his father about "asking Uncle Michael."
That made me blush... A few weeks after we moved back home,
my Uncle Michael took Himself aside to give a little talk about how I am easy going and sweet until you push me too far and then, I quietly go my own way. The first few years we moved back home, several old friends and family members had little talks with him! I still think he was surprised how protective my family is.
Anyway, even my father and his brother heartily approve the plans for climbing roses and new deciduous trees for the front yard. Crepe myrtles and magnolias too, non-invasive of course. Rose-of-Sharon.
As the old Texans used to say, "That's my words with the bark on it!"