I discovered this lovely book in a charity shop, in Tavistock, on Friday.
Strangely, I had only been looking at it, online, earlier in the week...
'A book for a lazy summer day,' I thought to myself as I added it to
the ever growing list! I didn't think I'd find it that quickly!
These things are meant to be, I suppose.
It instantly reminded me of one of my favourite Rudyard Kipling poems:
The Glory of the Garden
OUR England is a garden that is full of stately views,
Of borders, beds and shrubberies and lawns and avenues,
With statues on the terraces and peacocks strutting by;
But the Glory of the Garden lies in more than meets the eye.
For where the old thick laurels grow, along the thin red wall,
You'll find the tool- and potting-sheds which are the heart of all
The cold-frames and the hot-houses, the dung-pits and the tanks,
The rollers, carts, and drain-pipes, with the barrows and the planks.
And there you'll see the gardeners, the men and 'prentice boys
Told off to do as they are bid and do it without noise ;
For, except when seeds are planted and we shout to scare the birds,
The Glory of the Garden it abideth not in words.
And some can pot begonias and some can bud a rose,
And some are hardly fit to trust with anything that grows ;
But they can roll and trim the lawns and sift the sand and loam,
For the Glory of the Garden occupieth all who come.
Our England is a garden, and such gardens are not made
By singing:-" Oh, how beautiful," and sitting in the shade
While better men than we go out and start their working lives
At grubbing weeds from gravel-paths with broken dinner-knives.
There's not a pair of legs so thin, there's not a head so thick,
There's not a hand so weak and white, nor yet a heart so sick
But it can find some needful job that's crying to be done,
For the Glory of the Garden glorifieth every one.
Then seek your job with thankfulness and work till further orders,
If it's only netting strawberries or killing slugs on borders;
And when your back stops aching and your hands begin to harden,
You will find yourself a partner In the Glory of the Garden.
Oh, Adam was a gardener, and God who made him sees
That half a proper gardener's work is done upon his knees,
So when your work is finished, you can wash your hands and pray
For the Glory of the Garden that it may not pass away!
And the Glory of the Garden it shall never pass away !
What a wonderful poem!
I've always loved the garden, from a very young age, when I used to visit
my grandma for short holidays; her garden was a delightful place to be.
I recall that I was allowed a watering can and a special plant to look after -
a Jasmine. At the age of seven, the gardening seed was sown
and from thereafter, I couldn't wait to have my own, little piece of garden.
On Friday, we visited Endsleigh Nursery, at Milton Abbot,
just outside Tavistock.
It's one of those old fashioned nurseries, which in my opinion are the best!
I won't go on about what I feel about today's garden centres... but you get my drift!
Here, we wandered to our hearts' content.
It was very quiet, the sky was blue and the birds were singing...a perfect day to
enjoy the surroundings and take in what was on offer.
So many things caught my eye;
these beautiful poppies, for instance!
It's Foxglove fiesta time, right now; oh how I love Foxgloves! Yet, in spite of
many new strains being produced, I would still choose the old fashioned species,
which grows all over the hedgerows, as my favourite.
I spotted this delightful rose, basking in the sunshine, along with a
stone cat,which was doing the very same.
And peeping over a fence, I spotted a charming border; a bees' playground,
I thought to myself..
You can't beat a mossy wall to give a garden character.
And here's a Fuchsia, 'bossing' its own space...this one was gorgeous.
Nasturtiums! A reminder of my childhood!
There were so many colours on offer here...
you could imagine an artist, settling down with his/her easel, to paint such a scene.
My favourite colour for Irises...a stunning blue.
And then it was raining...raining Wisteria!!
No picture does this justice; it was simply lovely.
It sure is true...the glory of the garden will never pass away!