The rainy, cozy, flower-scented days of May are giving way to the hot, bright sunshine of summer. I’m sad to watch the bluebells fade but ecstatic every time a new peony unfurls its perfumey petals.
I think I’ve mentioned it before, but one of my favorite books of all time is The Secret Garden, and I’ve never felt more like Mary Lennox than lately, when I step into our garden and feel my frustrations and anxieties slough away. It’s a kind of magic, and one that I’d never really experienced before.
Bridget is the true gardener of our family, while I pore over botanical illustrations and flower language books and herbalist lore. My head is full of Latin names and plant mythology, and I feel endlessly curious about all of it. I’m hoping, in the months to come, to become more hands-on with the digging and planting and weeding and tending. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this excited about something–or this enchanted.
Below, a gallery of some new and old flower friends, along with a few captures of our beloved home. (Click for larger sizes/slideshow.)