Tuesday's Visual Treat - Day 2/ The Theme of Royalty


My neighbor, Lady Emblom is a devoted gardener who almost wordlessly ushered me away from convention and towards a wider gaze.  Not for her are the pastels and softness of pink, coral, and white David Austin roses; nor is she inclined to limit her labors to boxwood, ferns, hollies, laurels--the stalwarts of those who still cling to the notion of compulsory all-year interest, and undoubtedly also to the crossing-guard's hand long after the all-clear signal has been given. Maggie's garden is ablaze with the dynamic combination of fiery-red crocismia planted next to orange day-lilies and courted by undulating banks of strawberry-colored snap-dragons.  Equally captivating are masses of lily-of-the-valley frolicking with queen of the night tulips, this contrast of white against deepest purple, almost black causes neighborhood strollers to always stop and stare.  Frequently I gaze through the crepe-myrtle branches upon this sliver of heaven and I am blessedly content. If I am patient and wait long enough--yes, there goes three clever cats beneath the shadows of the yew bushes, and much later in the evening, tiny white bunnies furtively hop through newly-planted zinnia seedlings.  In the wee hours of morning appear scores of energetic bluebirds who seem curiously intent on endless chatter, perhaps work-place gossip.  The whine of distant leaf-blowers, persistent dandelions, bothersome ivy creeping again on the fence, the slippery trail left on the walk by voracious snails--these all seem so minor when I pause to remember that the garden, indeed this life is transitory and so fleeting, and everything changes and moves, and soon it'll be Memorial Day and time to look for the beach blanket and the sentry-blue picnic basket with the broken top-latch.  Maybe this year or the next, botanists or breeders will succeed in getting the color of the {queen of night} tulip from almost black to deepest black. How black, you wonder?  Black, like midnight multiplied by infinity, I finally venture. Or, black as a state of being without hope.  Enough, I think.

Enjoy the image of q-o-t-n tulips photographed in Oscar de la Renta's famed CT garden.



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