All my troubles fade away
Sweet contentment here I find
Joy of heart and peace of mind
A little poem by Patience Strong, this says it all for those who love to be in the garden.
An English garden is full of roses, it smells sweet. Night scented stock's and the heady smell of roses in the air.
The flowers seem to bloom all year and the more moderate climate makes it possible to have that colour going on all summer it seems. Enough rain to keep it all green of course.
This garden is Chartwell in Kent.
The English love their gardens. If their property is not large enough then they will use containers and windowsills. The public parks are fantastic and one thing I really miss here in the States. There are lovely public gardens to walk in, to have lunch in and take a break from the rat race. As a child I loved the two we had in Dunstable. One in particular had an areas where one went down steps into a low garden with stone walls, plants hanging over the rocks and shrubs and trees making it a hidden garden where one might see a rabbit or two in the early morning.
One thing I did love about Canada they seem to have retained that English love of gardens, and especially Public gardens or Parks as we call them in England.
1 comment:
A beautiful poem with garden mosaic. How nice to see the garden of Sir Winston Churchill! If I remember correctly he built most of the walls himself.
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