Monday, July 20, 2009


Gray skies and rain, the earthy aroma of damp soil, compost and dripping foliage, the astringency of little green tomatoes on the vine, green peppers, hot peppers, corn, gourds and beans of every shape and color.

Out of the fertile gloom of the garden behind the little blue house in the village, there rises a single radiant David Austin rose this morning. It is called simply "Chaucer", pink and lavishly cupped with a golden heart, perfectly shaped and redolent of myrrh. Not even a week of summer monsoons can eclipse its splendor, and all the perfumes of Araby cannot compete with its perfect fragrance.

Dare I admit that I purchased it solely for its name? Canterbury Tales remains one of my favorite works ever.


Trish said...

What an exquisite rose! I have tried to grown them here in the high mountain desert...they never ever look like this picture...We have 103 degrees here today...I am coveting any thought of earthy compost smells and blessed rain. Trish

Anonymous said...

Even in the beautiful gardens of Singapore this would stand out. It is simply gorgeous. Thank you for the little grace note in my day.