I don't think it is any secret that I love flowers. They hold such happy memories for me. I remember visiting my grandparent's house and Grandad was always growing something. Every time I see gladioli or old fashioned single gerberas I think of him.
Similarly, my Dad has always grown roses, pansies, sweet peas, gladdies, chrysanthemums, carnations and a myriad of other plants and flowers. Even in the NQ heat and humidity he perseveres and our house was rarely without his beautiful blooms.
I think the first time I realised how beautiful hydrangeas were was when we visited my Uncle and Aunt in Melbourne when I was about 12. They had massive bushes out the front with huge heads of flowers. Gorgeous. I'm trying to grow my own now ... I've not killed them yet.
Peonies are another favourite. I love them at every stage of their unfurling. From tight buds to flopping petals revealing the bright yellow stamens. Our peony plant remains - shockingly - alive, although hasn't flowered since we've moved to Sydney. Poor thing.
Roses are so classic and David Austin roses are simply magical. They are both beautiful to look at and beautiful to smell. My local flower man always has some in stock and I can't resist them. The heady scent of rose in the mornings after the house has been closed up for the night is one of my favourite things. It's amazing how it wafts around the entire house - even outdoors.
Here is my own meagre rose offering. Our first crop of Pierre de Ronsard. They mightn't grow quite like weeds as they did in Canberra, but I hold out high hopes for my little roses this year.
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