How long can it take to decide what to call a post about an incredibly influential Dutch garden designer? Ages, apparently. And I’ve discovered that if I don’t start with a title before I write anything else, it stuffs up the permalink system, and names it by a number.
Anyway, forget all that, and start reading here:
Now don’t get me wrong. Rosemary is an incredible plant. It grows happily in the toughest, poorest conditions, flowers in the dead of winter and instead of giving off airs of one that’s surviving with gritted teeth, has the grace to wrap itself in the rich fragrance of nana-roast.
On Tuesday I was with a client with a cream labrador named Lucy. On Wednesday I was with a client with an almost identical lab. At one point during the day, my Wednesday client told me she’d been discussing with Lucy where to put her Alliums. For just a moment the days crossed over, and I seriously thought she was telling me that she’d been asking her dog for planting advice. I was reluctant to give up the mental image as it emerged that her cream lab is named Daisy, and Lucy is her gardening friend from England.
I’m still not ready to leave Italy, and following a point made in my earlier Italian garden post, I want to indulge in some impressions of Villa Gamberaia, just out of Florence. There’s been so, so much written about it over the last couple of hundred years, that there surely can’t be anything original left to say.