Memories of Alfred and Marianne.

It has been so wet here recently that walking out on the grass gives you that horrible, squelchy feeling underfoot. I really dislike the sensation (you know, senses are so important - but I digress). It's also that time of the year when the summer blooms are wilting, with the hanging baskets starting to look a little worse for wear. I took a little stroll in the back garden this evening to assess the damage there, and was pleasantly surprised; there was the usual heady scent of lavender; but some pretty violas were having a final, glorious hurrah!, my eucalyptus is thriving as is my honeysuckle, but more excitingly, a rose bush that I had seriously lost confidence in has decided to bloom and restore my faith in my (faintly) green fingers.

Roses remind me of my paternal granddad; he was a master rose grower, no matter when I visited, he had a beautiful rose in bloom without a black spot in sight. He was an amazing man, who died a week after my eldest was born, and after whom my eldest is named. I took a single rose for my sweet little cuttings jug; and some eucalyptus and lavender stems for the hallway. As you can see, I have absolutely no arranging skills whatsoever; but I'm enjoying looking at the silvery leaves in the distance.

In other news, the sweet pea, which I cultivated in the kitchen window, and failed to relocate with its brothers and sisters in the garden, is in bloom. To be honest, I'm quite glad to have a bit of floral company in the kitchen; and sweetpeas remind me so much of my maternal granny, who always grew a wall of them in her garden. It's quite fitting for it to be in the kitchen, she was a fantastic cook, particularly baking - she made the tastiest food from the simplest ingredients. She always believed in the freshest ingredients. Good night and god bless, Granny C and Granddad M.

Do particular flowers remind you of a loved one?