![]() Like - ahem - certain older women I know. Here are blooms cut today that are faded and past their prime yet still so lovely. Though actually, if one of my offspring were getting a great honour, or even a minor honour, I’d go. How could I go away and miss this? I’m with you, Sidonie. They’re a gift to me and anyone who sees and smells them. ![]() I love these roses, a magical pink blessing that lasts only a few weeks, with my heart and gut. They’re glorious, the scent pure and pervasive. It seems to me I must never go away mid-to-late June and early July, because of the William Morris roses. Sidonie wrote back that she’d love to, but her special plant that flowered only once every few years was due to flower at exactly that time. There’s a wonderful story the sublime French writer Colette tells in a memoir: when she was to be inducted into the Légion d’Honneur, one of the first French women to be offered this great honour, she wrote to ask her mother, Sidonie, to come from her home in the country to witness the event.
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