The Return Of The Rose Whisper

 By Maryanna Gabriel

Blessed by beauty.

Ahhh, the month of June. Roses. If you don't remember who the Rose Whisper is, I inherited a garden created by a master. It's a lot of pressure. He loves roses. I am blessed to have the beauties everywhere. There are worse problems in life. 

We had an understanding he would help me figure out what was where. So, he returned with his partner for a visit. I served muffins and coffee. There was barely time.

It was a bit like watching the King (I guess that is capitalized) during the Trooping Of The Colour at Buckingham Palace. Nothing escaped his observant eye. He carefully inspected the perimeter, inside and out, and took it all in. Then he began rattling off such names as Hot Cocoa, Garden Fairy, Michel Trudeau, Rock n Roll, Anna's Praise, Pink Bonnet, Pompons des Princes, Roses de Rescht, to name a few, as I followed panting behind him, madly scribbling. 

As a result I have managed to create a garden map. The major challenge of the excercise was deciphering my hand writing. Now that the roses are blooming some of the names are not matching what I have written and so now I must refine my conclusions. 

Refining my conclusions. 

Getting Ahead Of The Wind

 By Maryanna Gabriel

Something amazing happened. Roses curling in unexpected places around here need the support of a trellis or two. I thought I had the problem solved when I utilized an arbour made of poor materials. (Being cheap, you know.) Well, you get what you pay for. The silly metal things started to bend and I could see the situation needed some oomph. So I went searching. 

Rose arbour being installed. 

Eventually, I found someone willing to bring two sturdy arbours made of wood. I was chuffed. We made an exchange that involved a stay. It was a good deal for both of us. Just in time.That very night a wind blew. While I was sleeping, it blasted the silly metal trellisses to smithereens. In the morning, I found the trellises in disaray on the ground. Pretty wild.

This brought to mind a time when I called a tree specialist. Ahead of time. The night before, a wind came up and created a lethal widow-maker. The specialist saw it before I did. Sometimes we prepare ahead of time without knowing the reason why. 

Jasper

 By Maryanna Gabriel


Living in the country, I have wondered about getting a dog. Instead, I have a cat who visits named Jasper, who acts like one. He sleeps on the doormat watching me come and go, eyeing my every move. It's most interesting for him because the fridge is right by the door. His behaviour is hard to understand because he is not mine. He lives across the way. Yet he is always here. 

I'm trying to teach him manners, and just when I think I've made headway, we are two steps back. He is a rescue cat, you see. Lately he's taken to rushing the door. His entire mission is to enter these hallowed halls. He's so smart he has also learned how to open it with a gentle rocking motion. Moreover, there is a screen installed which he likes to puts his claws into so I have to really watch him. The door was not only expensive, carpenters are not cheap. 

This led to an incident. While I was balancing a tray of polyurethane...  across hand-knotted carpets in order to get to a deck, he rushed the door. And was in. I knew he was headed for the fresh paint on the deck opposite. In mind's eye, I was either going to spill the polyurethane trying to stop him or he was going to run onto the deck and reenter the house with deck coating encasing his little furry feet. That left one resort. Boy, did I yell. I think they must have heard me clear to Vancouver Island. He got the message alright.

He disappeared for a couple of days. I could tell he thought I had flipped my biscuit. Which was the truth. I had. Don't worry, though. He's back. On the doormat. Watching me.