I believe it was a commenter at According to Hoyt, a woman from Romania, who observed that you don’t want to live where a lot of history happens. The more I read about certain parts of the world, the more her words ring true. Central and Eastern Europe have a lot of history, and the historians, populists, and general population all interpret that history in all sorts of ways, sometimes at odds with each other and their neighbors. Continue reading
Not all small roses are miniatures, and some miniatures are not small rose(bushes).
Miniature roses have small blooms, often the size of one of my thumb-nails.
It is a perfect rose blossom and plant, just washed on hot and then dried. Most minis are suiteble for growing in containers, or in the yard, and they tend to be hardy. They are pretty much all on their own roots, unless you get a “tree miniature.” Those are grafts onto a sturdier stem, but at that point you are looking for a plant that you want to cosset, not a “plant and forget” rose.
The ultimate “plant and forget” is the Copper Penny Jr. outside the front bathroom window. It is a climber, and the plant now blooming orange outside the window is the offspring of the original. Copper Penny Sr. was planted in that corner when we moved her in the early 1980s. It did pretty well in the sheltered corner, but died of one bad winter too many two years ago. Happily, it had seeded a successor, which is three years old and going strong. Junior is already three feet tall, but has small stems, small leaves, and tiny flowers. So yes, a climbing mini is quite possible.
The survivor plants I rescued from the grocery store are also still hanging tough near the strange buddleia. They are two years old, so they should make it if they get through this summer and the following winter. Mulch them and prune just as you would a full-sized rose, but go easy on the fertilizer. They are prone to going all leaf-no flower, or at least ours do. They also bake more than full-size if you plant them near pave, so you’ll need to mulch. (Um, yeah, and dogs that “water” them have worse effects, so keep that in mind if you plan on putting them near a right-of-way.)
Most minis are shrubs. They don’t get large enough to become ramblers, like this monster:
This one’s not a mini and not thornless. People tend to have third thoughts about climbing the wall to peek over.
Oh, yeah. I’m heading out on the road, and will not have secure internet until the end of June. I’ve advance posted a lot of stuff, mostly every-other-day, but I won’t be able to release people from moderation or to answer questions for most of the time I’m gone. Yes, the house will be occupied in my absence, and yard tended to, and the neighbors will check on things, and the police are aware.
Today is the observation of Memorial Day. I try to get to the ceremony in the public cemetery, and we always watch the national Memorial Day concert on Sunday night. It’s family tradition by now. My parents never lectured Sib and I about Memorial Day, but they encouraged us to honor it.
The title of this post comes from Sir Christopher Wren’s epitaph in St. Paul’s Cathedral, London. it also reflects the ending of Saving Private Ryan, and Abraham Lincoln’s words about being unable to further hallow the soil at Gettysburg than it had already been sanctified by the blood of the men on both sides.
Rather than say more, I’ll leave you with some music, and Kipling’ “Recessional.”
Alfred the Great of Wessex is one of my heroes. I imprinted young, with the book by Alf Mapp, The Golden Dragon. The book is for kids, and is hagiographic, but it’s hard to diminish just what Alfred managed to do. I returned to him in grad school, when I read a historical fantasy novel based on his life. That got me looking for academic biographies, and I found one. Wow. Justin Pollard’s Alfred the Great draws on Alfred’s own writings, the biographies written at the time, and draws in archaeology and other things to paint the picture of someone who refused to quit, even though his own body often failed him at times of stress.* There’s a very good reason he is the only monarch in English and British history to be called “the Great.” Continue reading
I’ve been keeping an eye on the weather in Central and Eastern Europe for a few months now, comparing it with the averages and trying to make some plans. You probably have not heard, at least if you are in the US, but they have been having flooding the past few weeks due to cool temps and heavy rains. Two to four inches in 24 hours will do that. The pattern got me thinking about “When was the last time I’ve experienced truly hot weather in northern Europe?” 2005. 1994 was not fun, but 2005 was the last time.
It’s anecdata, but… Continue reading
OK, enough is enough. They are remodeling, sort-of, the drugstore cum natural-stuff emporium where I get my medicines, drug-store stuff, and cereal.
They moved the cereal. Specifically the stuff I have been eating for over a decade now, because my gastroenterologist recommended it. They are the only place that stocks it on a regular basis, and so I buy it there rather than ordering it. And it moved!!!!!
So, in lieu of actual content, because my brain is mush due to allergies, end-of-term work, and pre-loading two blogs for June, you get more flower photos today. Sorry. Continue reading
Last month a discussion broke out, so to speak, about instrumental “vocalizing” versus singing. I had an interesting, unplanned, and undesired chance to show how different spoken vocalization is from sung not long after, thanks to an upper respiratory virus.
From travels (and travails) with a catfish to the challenge of a barn-owl with balance problems, it’s a Familiar world out there. Five short stories starring friends old and new. Morgana and Smiley meet for the first time, while Prof. Grayson and Chester try to sort out why a witch went nuts, and Shoshana fights a very private battle. Laughter, tears, dark magic, and the usual chaos you’ve come to associate with the Familiars.
The short stories total 47,000 words.
So, apparently the weather earlier this spring agreed with the roses.