Vita Would Not Approve

It was twelve years ago that I got the misguided notion that my garden might somehow, some day resemble Sissinghurst. Too bad, I thought I had included a photograph in that post, but apparently I did not, proving that even I realized that a few dabs of white do not constitute a white garden.

In that post I mentioned my David phlox and the faithful nicotiana. The nicotiana must have died out and I had forgotten I even had it, but sometime ago I planted a bunch of shasta daisies which have really taken off.

Too much white—too much yellow, for that matter, and the purple clematis which once covered the arbor is going to meet its maker. I just don’t have the stamina to work in the garden the way I used to. The trouble is, as long as we are here I have to do something with the flower beds. I can’t just leave them.

Today I noticed that my grocery store, my occasional source for inexpensive plants, has pots and pots of chrysanthemums and asters ready to add a touch of autumn color. Not a white one in sight. Then I start  thinking of all the work involved in moving around my current plantings and re-organising the neglected garden.

I think I will buy a large book of photos of Sissinghurst instead.