Clouds and bamboo behind the Black Pig look exotic, more like Thailand than Tunbridge Wells.
Ground elder is an irritating weed, but when the earth is soft, as it is today after the rain, it is satisfying to ease its winding roots with a fork, to disentangle them from the clinging soil, and extract them in their entirety from the herb bed, and the bed where I grow roses for cutting.
The sun brings out the best in us. The waitress at the Ragged Trousers wants to spread good will but runs short of polite farewells. As we leave, she beams: "Have a lovely rest of the day!"
4 comments:
I dream of planting a bed of perfumey old form roses when (if) I retire. Hybrids are gorgeous, and I enjoy them very much, but I like the older forms and their heavenly scents.
Hope your roses do well for you, Joe.
:)
You are right, Martha.Old roses are the best. Their perfume and appearance are what roses are about- delicacy, complexity and mystery. Their blooms are often fleeting and they usually flower only once in a season. But they are infinitely superior to the majority of garish, over-stated blatantly obvious hybrid-teas.
Did you know you can eat ground elder? It might be a good revenge?
I did know that, Clare. Richard Maybe claims in Food for Free that the Romans cultivated it. I tried to eat it, but it was not a pleasant experience, even boiled like spinach. Perhaps I should only have used the most tender shoots!
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