Wordless Wednesday

romieux in alpine house

Early Irises

I was going to post some more of my books today, but the sun is shining and this little beauty caught my eye.
Iris 'Katherine Hodgkin' is the result of a 1960's cross by an amateur gardener who named her after the wife of a fellow plant enthusiast.
My other early iris, the winter flowering 'Mary Barnard' was collected by the lady herself near Algiers in 1937.

Golden Treasure

My posh snowdrops opened out in the sun today.  I bought one bulb of Wendy's Gold from the RHS garden at Wisley a few years ago.  The delightful plant has obligingly, if slowly, increased every season since.  This year I have a group of four flowers all showing the same beautiful golden markings.
Wendy's Gold was first found by Bill Clark on the site of an Iron-age fort.  It was brought into cultivation by Joe Sharman, another galanthophile and a nursery owner.  He named the plant for Bill's wife.

Another Treasure

Another of the very early daffs flowering in my tiny greenhouse at the moment.  This one is called romieuxii and is a beautiful pale lemon colour.  Like cantabricus it is a native of Morocco.

Today's poem comes from an activity in which we were given a long list of wierd titles and asked to write to a few of them.  The one I chose first was 'What the Cow Thought About the Rain'.  My inspiration was the old country belief that cows sit down when rain is on the way.

There’s a smell in the air,

a change in the light.

A promise of rain

that just might

fall.

I’ll first choose my spot,

safe under that tree.

Then race there,

who wins?

Me.

Ruminating, while sitting

on my warm dry grass.

Waiting among daisies

for the shower to

pass.

Hidden Treasure

One of the bulbs flowering in my tiny greenhouse at the moment is a very early, very lovely, daffodil called cantabricus.

Whilst whizzing through the poetry section for A215 I came across one or two activities that I thought I might enjoy.  This little verse arrived when we were asked to write in 'another voice'.  The voice is of the blossom on my Prunus autumnalis, subjected to the very low temperatures we've had overnight this week.

So cold, last night.

Stars fearsome bright,

clear points of light.

Frost creeping over us, hurts

stiffening pink frilly skirts