When I moved this Hypericum, also known as Rose of Sharon, from one place to another in the garden, I was unaware that a handful of crocosmia corms had hidden themselves in the clump of earth surrounding the shrub's roots.
The result was a ready-made bouquet of flowers, the plain, daisy-shaped, lemon yellow/egg yoke yellow of the hypericum's flowers and the dramatic, orangey yellow shapes of the crocosmia flowers go beautifully together.
Both plants are very common and on their own hardly worth a second look.
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| Hypericum and Crocosmia |
I love it when things come together.
Don't you?
Alone, we are nothing,
We are ordinary, everyday clay,
not "the stuff that dreams are made on".
But put us together,
and we are twice as strong,
twice as beautiful,
we give and take twice as much pleasure in
simply being alive.
Side by side,
hand in hand,
a sorrow shared is a sorrow halved,
but
a pleasure shared is a pleasure doubled.
A good example of nature's 'two for one' special offer!
ReplyDeleteA 'happy accident', as my grandmother (a keen gardener) used to say. What a show!
ReplyDeleteBuy one and get one free! I love your poem too, Friko!
ReplyDeleteYour gardening is visceral and imaginative,
ReplyDeletebut your poetry reveals a window into
one of your secret chambers, where you
are wife, mother, and friend.
Normally I would not presume to place
one of my own poems on your comments
page, but there is one I now am moved
to share:
Pilgrim
I grew up gypsy-wild,
my father changing jobs
like he changed shirts.
Schools, friends, neighborhoods were
a panorama of mental postcards,
flashing past my merry-go-round
in a constant stream of imagery.
Home was just a word, an illusion,
used flippantly, sounding hollow,
like saying love
when you meant lust.
Home was just a place, a feeling
that I witnessed in others,
not something within my
personal dominion, so
I just looked at my city,
Seattle, as home;
the place I was reared,
a seven-hilled city by the Sound—
even though it was
like pointing to a great hotel
and speaking
of the 40 apartments
I had lived in.
I found myself spending time
residing in the vast halls
of my imagination,
haunting movie houses, libraries, parks,
finding solace in the memory
of past lives and past homes.
One day I noticed by parents were gone,
the familiar landmarks had changed,
my friends had swapped faces
so often I could hardly recognize
any of them. I wandered for a time
naked, solitary, vulnerable,
chasing ghosts and shredded memories.
But I was lucky.
A tall woman waltzed into my life
twenty years ago and miraculously
decided to grow old with me.
We drew up our contract
with the State and with God,
and soon became the twin occupants
of a two-headed love beast,
and together grew into one
complete organism.
Finally
the word home
and the word love
inhabit common ground
midst the limitless confines
of that golden beast—
and it feels like home
every time
I hold my wife’s heart.
Glenn Buttkus
By the by, Friko, you can consider yourself
ReplyDeleteas Muse, for now you can find me as
#102 on Magpie28, coming into this
challenge at the last gasp. Thanks for
the link and the invite.
Perfect. I like the way you were able to convey you happiness at this serendipity. I planted one crocosomia and it immediately died after blooming. What did I do wrong?
ReplyDeleteWonderful lesson conveyed through nature and an astute poet.
ReplyDeleteBOGOF gardening, for sure.
ReplyDelete:-)
ReplyDeleteThat's so time saving to plant a bouquet. Rose of Shannon must not grow well in cold climates. I tried twice but no go. Lovely meaningful poem.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful colors. And what a nice surprise.
ReplyDelete'a pleasure shared is a pleasure doubled'.
ReplyDeleteAmen! And your pleasures take us back to the real.
You make beauty!
ReplyDeleteWarm Aloha from Waikiki :)
Comfort Spiral
The flower combo makes a wonderful show and I enjoyed your words - they are so true.
ReplyDeleteOh Happenstance Happystance!
ReplyDeleteLovely, lovely words as bonus!
XO
WWW
Friko, I'm also reminded that we all look best in the midst of others who are different, and we people, like flowers, should appreciate our special attributes.
ReplyDeleteYou couldn't have planned a better display. Nature has a great eye.
ReplyDeleteLoved your words "a sorrow shared is a sorrow halved,
but
a pleasure shared is a pleasure doubled.
How true.
Everyone else, it seems, has said whatever I could have said - only better. What stands out for me is your pleasure in your work and nature's. No gardener could ask for greater satisfaction.
ReplyDeleteQuite a few have gone for the BOGOFF option, but I didn't even have to buy them! They came free and gratis!
ReplyDeleteGlenn Buttkuss - thank you for the poem, I don't mind at all that you have reproduced it here in its entirety. It is very good, but the end is the best. Lang may your happy twosome last.
Tabor - crocosmias (or montbretias, as they were called) survive anywhere. In fact, they are very hard to get rid of. I can't understand why yours didn't take.
Manzanita - Rose of Sharon grows anywhere too, another one of the workhorses in the garden. Try again, it is fully hardy.
Thank you all very much for your encouragement, bloggers are nice people, all of them kind and well disposed towards each other.
friko - the photographs are really lovely - i am rescuing my gardens a little bit at a time and there are occasional serendipitous discoveries to be made. i like that nature throws things in that are equally lovely. the poem is among your finest. steven
ReplyDeleteAnd how wonderful that you celebrate the resulting display rather than bemoaning what could have been seen as a muddle. Thank you. And Yes, I think it is beautiful too!
ReplyDeleteLovely--the common made uncommon.
ReplyDeleteDespite the Spanish saying , "mejor solo que mal acompañado " (better on your own than with the wrong person) , I think you're right .
ReplyDeleteThere's something very cosy about a shared memory .
Glad I came to this late, or I might not have seen the Spanish quote of S&S, which I agree completely with.
ReplyDeleteHowever, I also agree with you, dear Gardening Friko, in that, when the twosome goes well together, it's quite lovely. I would love that particular ombination in either of my gardens. I would put it to MFB, but he always comes up with a million reasons why our French climate is a tough one.
Beautiful garden; beautiful sentiment; beautiful person.
ReplyDelete"...a pleasure shared is a pleasure doubled." Thank you for what you share.