Nearer God's Heart?

When life was getting a little fraught a few months ago, one of the PEVs advised me to "stick to the garden". He feared I might breach some protocol of which I was unaware, and plainly he thought the garden was safe blogging territory. So here, a bit late but in dutiful obedience, is a garden blog. Today Jane and I went to Mottisfont, the National Trust's great rose garden near Romsey. It is already wonderful, and in the next two or three weeks will be overwhelming. Meanwhile, in case you cannot get to Mottisfont, [and you certainly should if you can] I thought a few images from my own modest plot might cheer you up.


I enjoy beachcombing, and the pink globe in this picture is a fisherman's float washed up on a local beach - and contrasting happily with, I think, the Hybrid Musk Rose Felicia.

Yellow roses are among my favourites. Canary Bird and Banksia Lutea are already over, but this is the great Arthur Bell, the so-called climbing variant which is really just a very tall shrub rose; but you can train the branches down onto supports, and then it happily produces a second crop latger in the season. The scent is typically crisp, as seems to be true for most yellow roses.


Some people seem to think a garage is a place for a car: what a waste! Ours is full of gardening essentials, and in front of it are pots with everything in them from eight-foot trees (a pine or two and a young birch) to alpines. Above, though you will see Hydrangea Petiolaris guarding the garage entrance.


Our plot is not exclusively roses: here near the front door is the dogwood, Cornus Mas; better this year than I can remember.



The white rose which is so prevalent in our garden is all from a cutting of a Hybrid Musk rose, I think called Moonlight. Sadly, it is unscented: but that is more than made up for by Zigeuner Knabe, the deep purple rose in this picture, with a heavenly perfume. And on the right a Rowan (no relation) from a marvellous nursery near here, Spinners. The Rowan in question is Chinese Lace, and if you click on the picture to enlarge it you might be able to make out some of its deeply cut leaves (lower right)

Nearer God's Heart

There are gardens, and gardens. The one next door to us is a constant source of interest to passers-by, especially children. Our neighbour Brian puts huge effort into providing interest and amusement, creating windmills and caravans and houses, and populating them with plaster animals and Disney characters. Always something new at Number 3.

Brian's Front Garden

By contrast, ours is what I'd call a plantsman's garden; at present, mostly contrasts in foliage, as the daffodils and magnolias are going over, and only a few tulips are out in pots to liven things up. And this garden rarely gets a passing glance.


Our front Garden

Contemplating these two very different front gardens, I'm put in mind of the strong views being expressed in the Catholic Church just now over the Mass. There are those who are delighted that the Latin Mass seems to be regaining ground, and others who find the whole prospect of anything but simple English quite daunting. Along with these two views go similarly polarised opinions about music; Gregorian Chant, over against Estelle White and "Jesus, How I Love You"...


The fence by our Drive

Now there is a concern about the rite to be specifically for the Ordinariates. Will it be gnomes and Disney, or varieties of Hostas and Capability Brown? We understand Mgr Burnham is in the driving seat producing a rite which will, surely, include a hint of Cranmer and a dash of the Caroline Divines. His own first Mass as a Catholic Priest was, we are told, in Latin. But what a task! How can you meet the needs of those who love the Celebration Hymnal and those who are wedded to Plainchant. Certainly those working on our own version of a "book of divine worship" need the wisdom of Solomon, the patience of Job, and the prayers of us all.

"One is nearer God's heart in a garden" ... but what sort of garden did Dorothy Gurney cultivate, who wrote that line?