The Hulthemia Rose by Barbara Carvallo

One-hundred and forty years ago a seedling of Rosa persica, the hulthemia rose, was brought to the Luxembourg Gardens from her desert home in Iran and the surrounding area. Today they are available in hybrids – usually shrub roses, but they can be floribundas. Their central distinguishing feature and what attracted western hybridizers, is their eye.  Most of them are named with reference to their eye or their area of origin, Persia or Babylon. Thus I invite you to look into the eyes of Rosa persica and know the meaning of beauty. 

These are not my photos. They were found on a free image site and largely attributed to Pinterest.

When in Doubt, Garden by Barbara Carvallo

Roses, Roses, Roses, Roses by Barbara Carvallo

One of the most beautiful roses in my garden is also my favorite, Just Joey. Below her is one of the most fragrant roses, Scentimental. One of the most beautifully shaped follows, Remember Me. Finally, the most romantic is the Peace Rose. Scentimental and Remember Me were planted in memory of my dear brother and sister-in-law respectively. Scentiment is for Greg and Remember Me for Rhonda.

Changing of the Seasons by Barbara Carvallo

Autumn’s sweetness moves softly though Summer’s last days like a lover’s whisper. Flowers, dramatic and lustrous, hold the morning dew in reverent prayer. The elegant ballet of September days unfolds in rusty-gold and Earth tones. October, the holiest of all months, swells toward Samhain, and the Witches prepare to gather with the Crone.  In November, Mother Hecate dressed in royal purple, snowy-white hair streaming out to cover the landscape, turns the Wheel of the Seasons slowly toward Spring.  All of Nature, adepts of the Craft and magical creatures watch the Sacred and Great Divide for the gathering storms of Winter, chanting Her ballad in deepest devotion.

In the cool, still, velvety night,
By the dark of the moon in silver starlight,
The Crone raises Her cloak and takes to flight.

High above the slumbering, shadowy ground,
She sores through the trees without a sound,
For company a raven and a three-headed hound.

In a voice deep as darkness She begins to sing,

Ancient words of power with solemnity ring,
I am the Goddess; I am Magic on the Wing.

This post is dedicated to my dear friend and sister, Peno.  In solidarity and love.

Inevitability of Fall by Barbara Carvallo

September mornings are more Fall then Summer.  They taste of bracing mountain breezes, and the light is smooth and clear.  By mid-morning Summer begins to struggle for her old dominance.  The late blooming flowers give us the illusion that she is winning, but alas Fall is coming as surely as the next Full Moon and the Winter’s snow.