This flowering azalea was brought from my mother's yard several years ago and transplanted here. It is approximately forty years old.
A walk in the woods yesterday was just what I needed. So I scaled the walls of the palace, swam the moat and proceeded to climb the small mountain behind Bloggingham's backdoor. I hid my trusty camera in my crown - that thing hurts my head - and put on (gasp!) unQueenly tennis shoes. Not a pencil skirt in sight. Slid my cellphone in the corner of my (gasp!) jogging pants and placed 911 on speed dial. Just in case. Even I know how directionally challenged I am. Remembering that once upon a time it only took me seventeen hours to cross the George Washington Bridge, I needed to prepare for anything.
Inspired by Linda's beautiful buttercup slideshow on her site Are We There Yet? - I set out to find the daffodils I planted eons ago under the cress of a large rock in the woods. I climbed. I climbed. I panted. I climbed. I tripped. I fell.
My crown fell off.
The buttercups were not blooming. Drats! And I risked life and limb to get here. For the real deal of daffodils see this post by Linda (scroll down past the gummies to the end) But after you read about my royal adventure. Sheeeshh..
So I sat down on this rock, took the camera out of that itchy crown and contemplated. I'm no shutterbug like Annelisa but I did begin to find some delightful treasures on the grounds of Bloggingham Palace.
Did I tell you I'm in love?
Of course you knew that- everybody knows that, but I'm also seriously smitten with trees. Glorious tall stately wise wonderful trees. And Bloggingham Palace is full of them. A writer's bungalow. I'm so lucky. Up up in the trees I sit on my deck and contemplate the riddles of the universe.
But yesterday they were talking to each other. See?
Hey Rocky! Who let her out of the castle?
Who does she think she fooling in that get-up?
I'm really sick of these flashes! Somebody call security!
Then I noticed the peonies. Not just any old flowering bush. Transplanted from great-grandmother's palace about a million years ago. Actually, the bush is about 75 years old. She had rows and rows of them in reds and pinks and whites.
They only bloom two weeks and smell heavenly and of course, remind me of the inner beauty and strength that great-grandmother possessed. I put some in a vase last night. The word peony originates from Paion, physician of the gods (or Apollo in this aspect), supposedly so called for the plant's healing qualities. The root, flowers, and seeds formerly were used in medicine.
Come on! Let's see what else we can find.... (slide disabled)