I have been enjoying lilacs for weeks now; photographing the flowers, picking bunches and bringing them inside, and gazing at them from my bedroom window.Obviously I've led a deprived life as I've never had a lilac bush in the garden before although when I lived at home my mother planted one which never flowered. She read in a magazine that if you hit the trunk with a hammer and then swore at it there would be a plethora of flowers the next season. Obviously someone was having a case of the funnies as the tree sulked even more after being beaten up by a seriously deranged senior citizen.
The garden here is bursting into life which means bursting into weeds. I am trying to do at least an hour's work each day but this isn't making much headway. Today I spent two hours weeding before planting a cutting on the burgundy Iceberg rose amongst the lavender. I also planted eight different coloured alyssum plants so I can begin making pressed flower cards again.
Gardening is as mystic as I get and whenever I see a new flower a verse from Dorothy Frances Blomfield Gurney's poem comes to mind:
The kiss of the sun for pardon,
The song of the birds for mirth,--
One is nearer God's heart in a garden
Than anywhere else on earth.
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