It was a morning of dark skies and rumbling thunder in the far distance and I expected a storm to roll in across the Bay. A cup or two of tea later, the sky became quiet, so I left the computer on and wandered about the garden. The earth and its subjects were ready for a deep drink, and, just after lunch, the skies opened and magic rain began to fall upon the thirsty plants. I love rainy days, their sights and smells....you can almost hear the parched little floral throats absorbing the essential liquid gold.
I had thought to watch the video of "Mamma Mia", which comes highly recommended, to fill a quiet Sunday afternoon, but the raindrops plinking on the ferns and flowers made me think how lucky I am to have such pretty things in my yard. Such as the sweet blue plumbago, always highly underrated as it is commonplace.
This semi climber, above, has the loveliest of perfumes...
...And the luscious bougainvillea which relies on its coloured bracts for splendour, has none, but is beloved by bees for the tiny white centres that make the true flower.
This one is the buds of the strawberry allamander, which I love to see in bloom. From tightly wound cocoons emerges the pretty flowers that will ramble along a fence with ease and independence.
This majestic, large hibiscus is actually from my Sid's garden, but always intrigues me with its bluster and show, standing over lesser plants with the disdain of the tall and a love of the limelight :)
Last, but far from least, is the yellow rose who's name just escapes me, that I planted in memory of a dear cyber friend , Anne from Ontario, who passed away about five years ago now, but whom I still hold dear and remember with affection each time her special flower blooms. The rain is still softly dancing amongst its dear flowers and I am content within my soul and may yet watch Meryl Streep and the handsome Colin Firth weave some cinema magic on a rainy Sunday afternoon.
