Happy Valentine’s Day to us all.
Today is the official launch of ‘The Neglected Garden’ and the novel is available to purchase worldwide as a paperback and e-book.
It has been a long path often strewn with obstacles but we’re nearly there now. The walk to the red door with the peeling paint is almost over. ‘The Neglected Garden’ will be published next week and I would like to thank all who have accompanied me on this adventure, especially my friends who encouraged me, the editors who pruned my overgrown words into shape and all the kind people who have joined my Facebook and Instagram pages. I’m really grateful to you all.
One of the most interesting things that happened during this summer's unusual and prolonged heatwave in Britain and Ireland was the mysterious reappearance of historic gardens and buildings. Outlines of old houses and villages that had been lost and forgotten for centuries emerged and brought the past vividly to life, if only for a short few weeks. Why does this happen?
Duckett's Grove. A ruin of an Irish Victorian Gothic mansion, abandoned and mysteriously set on fire. Home now only to the birds that swoop amongst its turrets (and several ghosts, according to locals).
I love walled gardens and their history. I was fascinated to find Duckett's Grove last week in County Carlow, with its two interconnecting walled gardens built of red brick with curved corners. The first garden has large lawns and long borders with a mix of shrubs and herbaceous planting. The second garden is smaller than the first and includes a row of fruit trees.
As I look out on my May garden, it's hard to imagine what it was like only two months ago but all I have to do is glance back at the photos in my March post to see several feet of snow. Unlike my hero in THE NEGLECTED GARDEN, nature never dwells on the past and, although spring plants are late arriving this year, they are just as beautiful and even more welcome than ever. I'm going to celebrate spring with plenty of photographs.
I mentioned the vigorous rambler rose Albertine in my last post and here it is in the summer of 2017. One of my grandfather's favourites, Albertine is salmon-pink with a scent. It climbed the walls of his walled garden for many years. What I love is the way the buds are a darker, almost coppery-pink and they open and fade to a lighter shade. The rose dates from 1921 and comes from France.
As an Amazon Associate suzannewinterly.com earns from qualifying purchases. Amazon and the Amazon logo are trademarks of Amazon.com Inc or its affiliates.
© Suzanne Winterly 2024