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Tradition

I bought a yellow climbing rose today. Hopefully it will climb the arbour. Before I tell you its name I will tell you my history with this rose – my grandmother used to grow it in her front garden or green as it’s called in some parts of Cardiff. When I was in primary school, every so often she would cut a bunch, wrap them up in newspaper to form a sort of bouquet and give them to me to give to my teacher. Our teachers varied but I can remember giving Mrs Dickens at least one of these. The people who now own the house I grew up in have long since paved over the front garden. Sad but they’re obviously not a fan of roses. Now the name of the rose, don’t snigger, but it’s called Golden Showers.

In my first garden I tried to grow them a few times but without much success. The main reason for this, I think, was because I was trying to grow them in a container. The new plant, in my second garden, will be eventually be planted directly into the soil. I’ve bought it as a bare root plant but it will have to live in a pot for a little while until I get a base for the arbour. But I think those golden blooms will look striking against the blue of arbour. This isn’t the first of my Nan’s plants that I’ve wanted to grow in my garden. She would grow Japanese anemones and “ever lasting”, perennial,  sweet peas. I’ve grown sweet peas before and I have some “old fashioned” sweet peas that I’m growing from seed. They’re not exactly the same as my grandmothers but there’s always next year for the ever lasting.

It’s old history now but I Nan and I didn’t have the best relationship. But when I garden and think of growing her flowers I am remembering some of the best bits of her and continuing them. And that’s all that matters really.

 

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