July flower of the month: Hydrangea

Though lavender would have been the easy, obvious, and lovely choice, the come from behind victor of the July flower of the month is the Hydrangea.

Again via some sort of unwritten, unspoken code all yards in England sport at least one Hydrangea bush (lavender too by the way).

They are all stunning, with a wide variety of colors and sizes.

There is one white Hydrangea bush right outside my front gate, which symbolically has always served to remind me where I live.  Hush, hush, but I have taken to routinely cutting one of its beautiful blooms for the bathroom.

More than once while walking around the hood I have stopped in my tracks to OMG at the larger than my head white blooms, or admire the antique pinks, the delicate detail, or simply the entire yards full of these stunners.

Well done.  (And yes, I did just use OMG as a verb).

Attitude Adjustment: Elche, Spain

I decided to chase the sun on the cheapest last minute (like three days before) weekend getaway I could find somewhere warm, sunny, with water nearby.  Apparently Elche, Spain, not far from the Alicante airport and the Costa Blanco, was part of my destiny.

The resort I found, situated within the largest reserve of palm trees in Europe, Huerto del Cura, had little cabana type rooms, a turquoise blue pool that wound through the candle lit lounge, and a gourmet grade restaurant with quite possibly the best Rioja I have ever had.  Oh, and weddings.

Day one we (a girlfriend of mine came along) decided that being so close to the coast and a little island 'Tabarca' we should make the trip and see the scene.  Upon arrival, I'll be honest, it was simply a local town and beach, mostly populated by the locals and their families.  Not jaw-dropping like Lagos, so the boat ride to the island was a good idea.

Although somewhat consciously forgetting the sunblock did result in a bit of a serious burn, just being on a boat on the ocean in the heat was worth the cost of the trip.  The small, arid island provided an organized beach area, but of course my preference was to wonder off the beaten path and find a less populated spot, even though it provided a bit of a rocky, seaweedy adventure to and from the refreshing water.

After the beachtime, our thirst and hunger persuaded us to land at one of the restaurants.  I just had to order the 'pescado frito', translated as fried fish ... heads included ... pretty big ones too!

That evening we headed back to wonder town, eat some gelato, catch some local breakdancers in the plaza, do some shopping at Mango, and then back to the hotel to shower up for dinner.

I had been looking forward to this dinner after reading their menu and approach online and it didn't let me down.  The starter salad of artichokes, sun-dried tomato, garlic, and salted cod was eye-rolling good and their approach to paella was unlike anything I had experienced before.  They layered the rice, etc. in the humongous pan and broiled it until it was caramelly brown, providing a wonderful smoky, gooey, moist sauce with the rice and seafood.  Yum!!!  I don't think I left a grain of rice on the plate.

Goal of day two was to walk the palm tree reserve and secure a pool spot to remain relatively motionless until we had to catch the flight.  Achieved, though interestingly enough we did have to find something in the shade!!

The horticultural park was quite impressive, with not only palms but quite a collection of cacti and succulents. Have you ever seen cactus trees?  I hadn't, until now.  Also, I didn't realize that dates were a fruit in themselves, growing on palm trees.  Aren't they dried figs?  No, silly, of course not.

Apparently this park is known for having an Imperial Palm - one with one base, but grows several 'children' trees out the trunk.  Upon seeing this the first time I assumed this was some feat of human splicing, but apparently they are saying these trees are for real.  Still doubtful.

Breakfast, lunch, the pool, relaxing ... all good.  A perfect little getaway.  London appeared quite nice this morning as I woke up with a whole new attitude ... it was sunny though.

<< Slide show on this one >>

Weather Contrast: U.K. -3

Seriously ... one should be prepared for rain when moving to London.  I thought I was.  Fair enough, we did have a drought in March/April, but one would not expect that the warmest week of the year would be in April!!

It has rained every day since I can remember ... and it is cold!  By cold, I mean 60 degrees, but even that feels cold here!  I admit to turning on the heat a couple times.  I am currently in the midst of a torrential down pour and my garden patio is under 6 inches of water!

OK, I am just groaning, but Chi-town ... with your emerald blue skies, powdery white clouds, sticky hot North Ave Beach days, followed by rolling thunderstorm nights ... you win.  Even with the hail storms and concurrent 100 degree days.

For revenge, I booked a trip to the south of Spain this weekend.  Take that!

Canterbury, Kent

Feeling in the mood to re-embrace this country after a bittersweet return from a visit home, I got back in the saddle and decided to do a day trip to Canterbury.

What I knew:  I needed a day trip with a train ride, I wanted to walk through a quaint town, I think I actually liked the book Canterbury Tales in high school.  What I didn't know ... why this town was really significant, why this cathedral was really significant, and pretty much every other historical fact I will undoubtedly forget ... or already have.

On a bit of a side note, there was also a major golf tournament occurring in Sandwich ... the last stop on my train to Canterbury, so the train was packed, and oh joy, there were four American 20 year old boys guzzling bottles of white wine at 10AM sitting right in front of me.  Now, those of you who have known me for a week know that I do enjoy a good bottle of wine, and that it took every ounce of my being to keep my mouth shut, but the way this kid chugged this thing literally gave me the dry heaves ... first, simply because of the wine, but second because these fools are representing America.  The Brits were cringing.  Ugh.  They probably puked and pee'd on the course, maybe tipped over a portolet.  Any way ...

Canterbury was quite delightful.  The High Street full of nice shops, ancient historic buildings throughout town reminiscent of Dickens, a nice little river, and of course the Cathedral.  I am still no more the wiser really on the history, though quite impressed by it all.

I was finally convinced to head there when I saw there was a large indoor farmer's market right next to the train station offering a 'foodie day out' to Londoners.  Ay-ight!  After a browse through there, I headed around town and did a walk through of the Canterbury Cathedral.  Quite beautiful, but eerily full of dead people.  There were tombs all over the place.

Anyway, it was amazing, and just like the other cathedrals I have seen, it is unimaginable how people of that time built these massive structures, all in the name of God.

I knew it was going to rain all day, and thanks to my new endorsed-by-the-Queen brully from a dear friend, I was looking forward to it.  As a closer to the afternoon, I decided to take the boat tour on the river, and it was coming down the entire time.  Still, I thought it was beautiful.  The water was crystal clear and the grasses flowing in the current were salad green!  Looked so healthy I would have eaten them tossed with just a bit of olive oil!

Captain Chris recommended a mead from the local pub - advice I took.  From there I caught that next train back to London.  Maybe I should read that book again.

One Year Later

July 15th marked exactly one year to the day I took off from Chicago O'hare with a one-way ticket to London Heathrow, a new land full of a bunch of people I had ever met.  July 16th marked the day that I arrived, groggy, overwhelmed, alone, but wide-eyed with anticipation.  The passing of these dates one year later has resulted in a lot of reflection.  One year - it feels like it, and yet it doesn't.

It's commonly said the older you get the faster time flies.  As I sit here today it seems like yesterday that I said goodbye to my friends and family ... the people, I suppose, is where I feel the most surprise that it has been so long.  Though it has been longer than I would like since I have spoken with some, and others the time in between is always too long, I still feel very close to the people I felt the most sorrow for leaving.  Plus.

On the other hand, when I think back to that first month - the corporate flat, the walk from Chancery Lane to my office, and even look at pictures of myself standing on the London Bridge the first time - it does in fact seem like it was a long time ago.  Almost in the sense of looking back at old high school photos - the awkwardness of something new.  I believe I have grown and experienced so much in the last year.  I don't feel changed ... the difference is subtle, but undeniably present.

I am constantly humbled by how all this turned out, the serendipity of the entire event plays out still today.  I am eternally grateful for the community I floated into and has evolved around me here, as they make the distance seem closer and the time away shorter.  To commemorate the event, I threw one heck of a little dinner party and it was simply perfect ... though every one thanked me over and over, it was me that was truly the grateful one (a few pics of some food below).

My mental commitment for this change was a two year minimum - I said to myself, 'you do not sell everything you own, leave your loved ones behind, and take on a new job to wuss out.  This may be hard, but to get its full worth you must commit to at least two years ... you can see how things go from there.'  Bizarrely enough, now that one year is behind I almost felt a sense of urgency ... the next year will probably go faster than the first and I still have a lot of things to do and places to see !!!!

<< small slideshow on this one >>

One handsome little man ...

Welcome to the world little Rion John.

You are too adorable, and I am really glad to be your Auntie.

Stonehenge

Last weekend I was invited to go to the wedding of some new friends of mine near the small medieval town of Salisbury, England, which just happens to be the launching point of the tour bus to Stonehenge.  So, I decided to take advantage of the situation and got up extra early on Saturday to assure I could catch the first tour and be back in time for the afternoon wedding.

It dawned on me the night before that because I was going straight from Salisbury to Heathrow airport on Sunday AM I would have my monster suitcase with me.  Ugh.  Still, I was not deterred.  After the lovely hour-and-a-half train ride to town, I dragged my bag to the tour bus and asked, "am I crazy to try and bring this along?".  He politely said "Yes, but do you see that little pub a couple blocks up?  They will gladly watch your bag for you for two pounds."  Apparently I am not the first tourist to have this issue.  Score!

Short ride through the lush, sheep covered, green countryside and boom there it is.  Sticks right up out of a grassy field.  It pretty much is what it is, but I did think it was interesting that the entire plains area is dotted with sacred burial grounds.  Mind-bending to try and consider what the people, landscape, weather, clothing, thinking, etc. were like back then when the dragged these stones down to this precise spot to set up their calendar (at least that is my interpretation).

Sweet Home ...

This weekend I am heading back to Chicago.  It has been about four months since I have been back, but honestly it feels much, much longer.  I spent some time tonight looking back at some photos, so I am felling a little melancholy.  Nearly one year later, I still miss what I knew I would miss the most.

The week will go too fast.

Royal Ascot

I heard there were actually some horse races going on, but let's be honest - the Royal Ascot is all about the hats.

British hats are already quite an awkward dress code for an American, but add in the Ascot tradition of the ladies trying to one-up each other with the largest / brightest / fluffiest / most bizarre hat in the building and you got yourself one heck of a "do".

Per the official website, rules governing the entry to the Royal Enclosure are quite tight (FYI fascinator = headband with a lot of very large feathers attached to it):

Royal Enclosure Dress Code

Her Majesty’s Representative wishes to point out that only formal day dress with a hat or substantial fascinator will be acceptable. Off the shoulder, halter neck, spaghetti straps and dresses with a strap of less than one inch and miniskirts are considered unsuitable. Midriffs must be covered and trouser suits must be full length and of matching material and colour. Gentlemen are required to wear either black or grey morning dress, including a waistcoat, with a top hat. A gentleman may remove his top hat within a restaurant, a private box, a private club or that facility’s terrace, balcony or garden.

So, nearly our entire gang - 18 in total - decided attending Ascot was a very British thing to do and should be part of our adventure living here in England.  We all stressed for weeks over our hats / dresses / shoes (heels and flats) / bags (tuxes with top hats for the boys) and ended up quite spectacular.

I got real lucky and found my dress while touring through the Cotswalds while Mom and John were here, and then found a hat that matched quite nicely - also with gaudy enough feathers to make an official statement.

The day started off quite early, as we awoke to fancy ourselves up in time to catch a train out to the town of Ascot.  One would envision more of a proper chariot to transport the princess, but I tell ya - this train felt more like we were headed to an upscale Nascar event.  Packed, and I mean standing room only, get to know your neighbor real well packed.

Stood in these ALL day.

The weather had been threatening us all day with rain, and as soon as we got there the sky opened up.  Fortunately, we secured a nice table under an enclosure with chairs and a view of the track!  The remainder of the day the weather remained quite nice, though chilly.  We got real lucky!

The queen made an appearance, riding around in her carriage to start the races.  Speaking of luck, we even had a couple of winners in the group.  No betting for me (that stuff is complex and believe it or not I am risk-adverse).

After the races were over the crowd gathered around the bandstand to sing ... wait for it .... American show tunes!  What?  Well, they did sing God Save the Queen (which by the way do you know we turned that tune into My Country tis of Thee?)  Anyway .. there was at least lots of flag waving.

Great, memorable day.

<< For those of you via email - there is a slide show in this one >>

Sprouts

In Chicago, one of my regular farmers market stops was to Tiny Greens, a girl that grew her own sprouts.  She used all different varieties, like radish, clover, and broccoli.

At the Borough market last weekend there was a guy selling kits to make your own at home.  So, of course, I was in.  Fun!

I followed the instructions, and wha-lah, within days I had my own tray of very pretty radish sprouts!  The flavor is so great, strong and spicy, and perfect to pair with some tomato and fresh mozzarella.

Gonna give this another go once I get back from my trip this week.






P.S.  Kitty is loving the garden as well!!

The Summit Shawl

Oh the joy of finishing up a knitting project.  I have been working on this one since January on the little knitting opportunities I have on the bus to and from work each day.

Very cool pattern, and the pure alpaca wool yarn is luxurious.  This one will be an eye catcher I'm sure ...  "nice scarf." ...
"oh, this little thing.  It's nothing really." ....
"Its really cool.  Where did you get it"   ...
"well, actually, I made it myself" ...
"you made it yourself!  Amazing" ...
"well yes, I suppose I am pretty amazing."

{insert proud dancing around with my new scarf on}
 
And now ... I have a new little nephew coming that must be covered in obnoxious hand knits!!

Just a Relaxing Stroll from the Beach

I'll start by clarifying that the title of this blog is sarcasm, as in, this was anything but a relaxing stroll from the beach.  While preparing for my trip to Lagos, I looked up some of the surrounding beaches and how to get to them.

There is a great website (of which I still need to give a little feedback to) that suggests this route.  You can see how it is described, and although it does recommend not getting too close to the cliffs, it forgot a couple important pointers like bringing your hiking boots, and your rope and pulley system to get yourself across the crumbling walls you would be scaling.

The walk started off a little ominous.  We couldn't locate the start of the trail, and finally spotted a path off in the distance through what looked like a gate to personal property.  If only we would have known what the future held while looking each other in the eye and shrugging "what the heck.".  Wish I had a picture of that green iron gate.

The path was a bit unpleasant, with tall brush and bristly wild flowers scratching our ankles and snagging our clothes. Yet, we pushed on with wild anticipations of the views that were to be offered, and the flowers and Jurassic size succulents were pretty cool.  I should set the stage a bit to say we were walking safely a couple feet from the edge of about a fifteen story drop.  I counted the stairs up from one of the beaches and it roughly equated to being that high.

Not smiling inside.

After a good twenty minutes of wishing we had a machete, I come upon what seems to be the edge of the Earth.  The trail appeared to simply end, leading you directly off the side of the cliff.  What the?

Now, I am afraid of heights.  I also am adverse to risking my life.  Neither of these two attributes persuaded me to get any closer to that edge.  Because I also was not keen on sweating myself back through what I just came from I persuaded Rachelle to take a look over and tell me what she saw.  "Oh ... my ....  you totally have to take a picture of me right now!"    Great.

So I mustered up the courage to look over the edge and saw carved out of the side of the cliff was a set of stairs, no edging, leading down into a little tunnel that turned like a spiral stair case, and then more stairs down.  They must have been there for ... could be millennia.  They were weathered and crumbling, covered with gravel.

So, this wasn't just the height issue, but the fact that they were not stable.  I chose wisely to slide down them on my behind - sacrificing a pair of white shorts seemed like a very cheap trade off for my life at this point.  Rachelle graciously documented this not so glamorous experience for me.

After I got down that I of course thought it could not get any worse, and was optimistic this poor choice must be coming to an end - this was only supposed to be a 30-50 minute "scenic stroll"!  Not so lucky.  The next part we are hunching through an ancient bamboo forest that reveals a rickety old piece of wood crating thrown over a raveen.  That seemed like child's play after the stairs.  No problem.

What awaited me next is where I almost hit my breaking point.  Now sliding in sweaty flip flops, the trail all but disappears into an orange colored rock mess and I am starting to appreciate I had done some rock climbing in the past (look for solid hand grips, take your time to assure your foot is planted).  The grand finale is when I came upon a very large "step" I had to take that cross over a huge crevasse, and it was then that I started to think I just might not survive this.

Praia

There was solid probability my next step would slide, and I along with it, to splat on the gorgeous nude beach below - much, much further below.  It took some serious self-chatter to convince myself to take that leap (and I was NOT going back up those stairs), and I made it.  And I tell you what - what a feeling.  I can do anything.


From that point on, all we had to do was climb back up a serious set up stairs carved out of the cliff, but these at least were not on the edge.  At the top, an ancient plaque noting "praia" below (beach in Portuguese).  Wow.  Imagine the people that put that there decades, if not centuries, ago.  I bet they were hot.

Look close, the stairs are in the cliff on the left

As we pushed our way through some more vegetation, we finally popped out back on the top again, only to be greeted by two leathery, short old Portuguese men with "You are crazy!!".

They had been watching our entire adventure - us glowing in our beachy neon brights - traversing that cliff-side trail.  I sort of think they were our guardian angels, and at least would have been able to dictate the last hour of our lives to the newspapers should the worse have occurred.

Alive!!!

I felt so exhilarated I let out a roar as we got to that solid ground.  Yes, those old men certainly must have thought we were crazy.  It's such a good feeling to know you're alive, it's such a happy feeling ...  wouldn't do it again, but proud I did it once.

This one's a doosey ...

Crispy skinned grilled Scottish Freedom Salmon stuffed with locally grown sage, steamed English asparagus with Rosemary, heirloom tomato salad from St. Joseph' farm with Thyme and Basil from Sarah's garden and fresh Italian Mozzarella with truffle oil.


It's all about the adjectives ... and the charcoal.

Lagos, Portugal

I should have known from the gut feeling the day I packed this would be a trip of a lifetime, but at that point it would have been too soon to know my debit card would be eaten by the ATM at the Lagos airport upon arrival.  Logic would tell you this twist of fate would not be the sign of a great trip, however in this case it was.

While packing my bags, I felt as if I needed to be extra precautious on this trip, as I had originally planned to be alone, and I needed to be prepared for the worst.  Thus, it dawned on me I should also bring my U.S. debit card, which I never have in the past.  Well, as fate would have it, upon attempting to withdraw my Euros for the driver to the hotel - gulp - card gone.  Confiscated by the machine, and no real justification for being eaten, just gone.  However, no worries ... back up!  Destiny I tell ya.  Pretty serendipitous.  Starving and lack of souvenirs would have been a real downer on the trip.

The remainder of the trip in Lagos could not have been more perfect.  The goal was sun and relaxation, not much more.  Mission accomplished.  The sites of these secluded beaches were out of this world.  Day one we stayed at the local beach where our hotel (OMG our hotel - nice, scenic, located, and cheap!) had a pool off site, ocean side.  Impressive, and the pool came in handy for a closer on the day.

The town was a sleepy fishing village with the sense of a party scene gone by, and really was now more a quiet, white-washed village full of backpacking or retired gringos and old Portuguese fisherman.  The few restaurants strewn about town closed early, and anything open late was for the wait staff or drunk college kids.  By this time of night I was more ready for early to bed anyway, and this did not result in negative points at all - maybe even positive points.  With the reflection of the night, the town seemed as perfect as a movie set.

For me, the cliff beaches were the highlight.  I had looked up some cliff walking trails before we left and jotted a couple I wanted to see.  I knew a couple - the Dona Ana and Camilo - would be my favorites, a must see.  Not disappointed.  Stunning.  Words can not describe the stunning seclusion, so hopefully the pictures help.

The fresh fish were also a huge highlight, with the beachside restaurants offering fresh grilled local catch of the day ... we tried rock bass, sardines, and silver bream while there.  All great.  Check out those teeth!!  We even had some onshore wildlife encounters, with gigantic jellyfish washing up.  Not something you really want to see float by while bathing!!

Praia Porto dos Mos was a bit further afield, shall we say, and required a taxi and/or some serious hiking.  We were in for both.  Got to practice some Portuguese on the way with the taxi driver, and to say we had a death defying cliff walk back would not be an understatement.  This was an advanced hiker's undertaking, and not kidding, I was so scared at times I literally scooted on my bum down stairs to safety.  This is truly another post entirely.

Anyway, there is so much more to this magnificent journey ... the four Euro bottles of wine, the Portuguese pottery, the squacking birds at night, the extraordinarily talented boatsman through the grottos, torrential downpours and watch-setting weather conditions, the karaoke and the white horse, Italian backpackers, Rose, pastel de nata and cafe duplos ... my new friend Rachelle.  This was a trip of a lifetime I will never forget.  First of three checked off the list.

First Harvest!

Upon moving into my flat last August, I discovered that out front there was a trough full of strawberry plants that the previous tenants must have left behind.  I have taken care of them and finally this week I was rewarded with my first harvest!

I haven't had a strawberry straight from the plant since I was a kid, and man, heaven!  So tart, and most importantly, red on the inside.  Looking forward to more ... I hope I get a good crop!

Pizza Vesuvio

Perhaps you know, probably you don't, but I have had a little bit of a "beautiful cookbook" obsession going on.  My most recent purchase has gotten a considerable workout this week.  I got the book Buonissimo! by the Italian Gino D'Acampo.  Lots of pretty food pics and full of simple ingredient meals I would (and did) find loads of pleasure making.

So, Saturday I set out the ingredient list - squid ("cleaned and ringed"), red chili peppers, leeks, turbot fillets, Parmesan, sea bass filets, lemons, cherry tomatoes, rocket (arugula), dry yeast ...   My four recipes for dinner this week were going to be sea bass carpaccio, roasted leeks with turbot fillets, squid/chorizo/chick pea salad, and a pizza vesuvio - all four from the book.

All are deemed successes.  How fun!!  Had a couple friends pop by last Saturday, and fortunately for them they got the sea bass carpaccio - whoa, delicious.  Raw fillets, sliced thin, covered in lemon juice, and then topped with slivers of red chili, fresh thyme leaves (didn't need to buy herbs because the herb garden is growing strong!), served with crackers.

Then I made the roasted turbot fillets Sunday night, quite pleasing.  Turbot is one of those really thin fish that swim horizontally, like a flounder, so if was cool to see my local fish monger actually cleaning this thing.  This was my first encounter working with leeks, though I know I have eaten them many time pureed in soups.  I actually had to google how to cut and wash them.  Slap all this on a tin pan, squeezed with lemon juice, joined with cherry tomatoes, and broiled it up.  Yum.

Monday's chorizo and squid salad was easy and healthy (well, as healthy as chorizo can be), a full meal because of the white beans.  The closer tonight - the pizza vesuvio - was exceptional.

Made my own homemade crust from scratch (though it didn't really rise like I expected - must be a latitude thing), and topped with kalamata olives, cherry tomatoes, fresh grated Parmesan, basil leaves, and of course a bit of the chorizo.  Bingo!  Man, I had been thinking about eating this entire pizza in one sitting all day!  Done, and since I ate fish and veg all week, well deserved.

Accompany these by the Riesling out of my wine 'o the quarter club and one needs no more.  I have to say, these Saturday meal and shopping sessions have made me question seriously what travel is truly worth missing it for.

Wine Club

It should be of no surprise to anyone reading this blog that I am a wine-o.  Not only do I enjoy the drinking process, I do really enjoy the science behind how growing and production conditions can really drive out different flavors from the same grape.

I have had my favorites for quite some time (Sauvignon Blanc from the Marlborough region of New Zealand and just about any red out of Northern Italy) but do like trying pretty much anything.  There is a cool wine shop near my house called The Sampler that has various tasting machines around and you put credits on a card and can taste at will.  Makes for an enjoyable weekend afternoon.

Last weekend in the store I noticed a box of wine with a bottle of Amarone - no matter the situation this word will stop me dead in my tracks.  Amarone is a a form of Valpolicella that allows the grapes to actually dry on the vine before pressing, causing more concentration of the sugars.  Anyway, this box had one in it and I needed more information on how to get my hands on it.

Thus ... I am now a member of the wine club!  Each quarter a case of twelve carefully selected wines will arrive at my doorstep, decked out with information and food pairing suggestions for each one.  Sweet.  Combined with my new cookbooks, this is going to make for a very pleasing summer.  Now taking reservations.

Can't resist ...

The kind of place, if you had the fortune of not knowing anything else existed you would never leave.

On each occasion I have been here I have been awed, spun around with wonder.  My past few trips (because I have to be here often for work) I have spent an intentionally spare morning or afternoon sitting in the plaza, dining at one of the many cafes that line the walls.

Winter or summer, the sky is always emerald blue and the sun like a diamond in the sky (hey, now I know how they came up with that song,).  I sit here, eating a 3 course meal with a 3 course wine (if you know what I mean) and simply reflect.

The people-watching here is remarkable, since it is quite a touristy spot (which typically I avoid, but honestly there is simply something spiritual about this place) and to some degree I think that adds to the joy - people popping champagne at 2 in the afternoon, couples making out under an umbrella, and tourist groups of young people walking in to see the splendor for their first time.

Ah Plaza Mayor ... I can't resist.  
P.S.  Thanks for the sun burn.

Introducing the English Rose

It is clear that the star of the garden for May is the rose.  The wisteria is gone, blue bells are too.  Make way for the sweet, tart smell of the English rose.  Not joking, again it seems that every yard has over the top amounts of roses.  The bushes are full of them, and even my own flat has two bushes weighted down with peach and white blooms.

And they smell ... great ... like roses.  Unlike the roses that you get in the stores (even good ones) in the States that have very little aroma, these babies are uh-mazing.  I am sure I will inhale a bee some time in the next couple of weeks as per cliche', one must stop and smell the roses.

Our neighborhood garden, De Beauvoir Sqaure, is a properly designed English Rose garden and it is just about in full bloom.  Great place for knitting in the sun!  They are simply stunning, and this is just in my own neighborhood.  I must go see the Queen's gardens!!

P.S. after today, I am convinced many locals are painting their front doors the exact same hue as their roses.  Note, two examples here on one street.

These ones are mine!