A Rose, by Whatever Romantic Name….

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Could you resist a rose by the name of Ghislaine de Féligonde or Tess of the d’Urbervilles, Nuits de Chine, Cuisse de Nymphe, Tea Clipper or Madame Hardy?

Apparently the white spotted rose beetle can’t either!

The roses are flowering early, like everything else.  The drought is confirmed.  The hedges need trimming, the clematis and irises need deadheading and ….. the Chelsea Flower Show is here.  I’ll be pedalling my exercise bicycle in front of the TV to build up the muscles in my broken leg whilst I look longingly at all those gorgeous, fantasy gardens and impossibly pristine plants gussied up to within an inch of their lives.

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About cavaliereattitude

Englishwoman, transplanted to SW France in '86, blogging - with a large dose of humour and self-deprecation - about life with my husband and our horses, the never-ending renovation of an ancient and crumbly stone farmhouse and the attempt to carve a beautiful garden and productive pasture out of a woodland wilderness.........
This entry was posted in Gardening, Horses, Living in France, Rural Living, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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