The other Ghislaine de Féligonde presents a rose

A lesson in orientation
When less sunlight is good, depending on your preferences

A plant comes with a ticket from the nursery. It says it is a Ghislaine de Féligonde. You have seen pictures of it. You have even seen one in your friend's garden, and you just loved those apricot hues. (Not that I saw one anywhere that I can remember, other than on-line.)

Your plant comes home from the garden store covered in buds. You plant it, and wait.

The first bud to begin to open is... creamy? You check the nursery label. It looks official. The canes match the description of the plant, and so do the clusters of buds, the leaves.

The rose opens, the palest of Devon cream -- not apricot at all. How can it be?

Orientation, perhaps? How and when it receives the sun. Just look at the difference between the first two roses to open, one on each plant. I thought the one under the protection of the weeping mulberry, about to produce tons of berries, received less sun, but I suspect that it actually receives more filtered sunlight for a longer period of the day. Hence, its paler coloring. The other plant receives direct sunlight in the afternoon to late afternoon, and the fact that it is direct does not make it more light. Hence, its nuanced and deeper colors.

Some flowers have better coloring in the sunshine, some in the shade. You can't go by the species of plant, but by individual varieties. That's why we love our plant books and the Internet when we are lacking in experience!

That's one explanation I have seen. But it doesn't explain why some buds on the same plant are of one coloring and others completely different. I suppose it is like children from two parents. They don't all look alike, even when they come from the same plant, for the truth is that I have deep-rose tinged buds on the plant that produced the first, cream flower.

Accept no pat explanations! Accept variety.

....

Lonicera misidentification?

I also suspect that the nursery that supplied the Lonicera x heckrottii 'Goldflame' to Florosny made a mistake, either that or their breeding efforts are not tops. These look much more like one of the L. x heckrottii parents, L. x americana, their coloring being far more yellow with a purplish color to the trumpet and the buds, than reddish-orange that is the signature of the 'Goldflame' honeysuckle. The leaves are also lighter in color like the L. x americana.
....

A partially open bud only yesterday

Ghislaine de Féligonde Rose

Rambler rose, Turbat 1916

Interestingly, this plant is more in the shade than the other one, which has much more apricot in the bud. I say interestingly because the plants in shadier areas are said to have the deeper coloring, but in this case, it's the opposite. This was a uniformly yellow bud that opened fully in the space of the afternoon, the first. The smaller photo to the right is a bud from the other bush, planted the same day in the sunnier location around the gazebo.

....

The Pool

The water is quite clear, pH ended up a little low (it was actually fine when they thought it was high, and I lowered it a little, but the weather will bring it back up), and for some reason, the chlorine barely registers. Sabine had to test it three different ways before we detected it. It's light, but since the water is too cold to go in now, unless you are my friend Karen, we don't need a very substantial chlorine level.

This photo is taken from the inside of the gazebo, where we eat now in the summer, and where I can work on warm, sunny days, once I am intrepid enough to carry my laptop, extension cable (for electricity, until we get it hooked back up), books and drawing stuff down there.

In the lower left hand corner, you can just make out leaves and unopened buds from the Ghislaine de Féligonde that produced the top flower today.

Yesterday I scrubbed the sides under the crown and spent hours and hours pruning and cleaning around the pool, the Corsica Blue rosemary, the heather that had far outgrown its area under the Pieris japonica, a white-flowering pieris, whose new leaves are red turning green or variegated and, which I pruned heavily to let light in under it so the heather I cut out would grow back in where it is supposed to be (if at all) and not practically hanging over the edge of the pool, stretching as far as it can on wiry stems looking for sunlight, and an Aucuba japonica, untouched for heaven knows how long, which I cut in half, discovering a Nandina domestica that was completely and thoroughly obscured by it.

The worst is pruning the ivy. It makes me sneeze repeatedly.

....

The Mosquitoes

They are so large and so bold as to nearly stay still enough to present themselves for a portrait alongside the dog and the flowers I am photographing.

Just awful this year, and already for a few weeks. Really.

Thank goodness I have a spray bottle of Cutters and another of Off from the States. I use them freely. So do our guests, but Audouin refuses. He'll use Paco Rabanne (until I xnayed it and since then he has refused to let me shop with him for one I prefer), but NO sun products and NO bug spray. That's fine by me, get eaten alive and keep your jeans and shirt on in the heat, while the rest of us slather up with our non-greasy 35 and 50 creams and "asperge" ourselves with Cutters.

Asperger. One of my favorite French words. It means to drizzle something, like olive oil and Balsamic vinegar on arugula (I'm with you, Barack). I believe you may use it with impunity for the application of parfumes and bug spray, as well.

That's Rapide. Baccarat was sniffing around somewhere behind me. I could hear her. To Rapide's right (my left) is the bank of St. John's Wort where the snake is believed to live. I haven't seen him since the other morning, but I talk to him.
....

A letter to Senator Ted Kennedy and 75,000

75,000
Portland, Oregon
Sunday, May 18, 2008

A letter to Senator Ted Kennedy, and a message to all of us.

May 21, 2008

Dear Senator Kennedy,

I could not have been more shaken had the news of your seizure and diagnosis been someone from my own family. As an American, I suppose you are my family. The Kennedys are our nation's family.

My mother worked some years ago for a Democratic think-tank in Washington, where John Jr. did a summer internship. It was an experience my mother will never forget, getting to know John the little that she did and to appreciate him as much as she did, handing him the phone when his mother called, asking to speak to her son, Jackie Kennedy Onassis on the other end of the line. I was born the year before you were first elected to the senate, disappointed my mother by not coming home from LA to DC to meet John myself, and grew up with the ideals of the Democratic Party and the 1960's, the Kennedy era, as the foundation of my personal and political structure.

I was little, but no one born in 1961 could have been too young in the 1960's not to understand the beginning of the contractions our nation was experiencing socially and ethically to bring us to our ideal. I felt betrayed later by the efforts to keep us from realizing our destiny and our greatness, and I am proud and moved that on Sunday 75,000 people came to hear Senator Obama address them in Oregon. To see a biracial man, his black wife and their two daughters before that crowd was a moment I will never forget. Times have changed, and the pendulum is swinging back as time moves forward and does its work. Perhaps it had to be someone born in 1961, come to maturity at this time, to pick up the thread of the time of our childhood, and all it meant. Maybe that is what destiny means.

It is too bitter an irony for me that at a moment when the planets are aligning to bring life back into that political and social spirit, at a moment when the candidate you have chosen to back is about to move on to the acceptance of our party's nomination for the presidential election and to win it -- and I am sure that he will, because he -- who resembles perhaps more closely your brother Robert than John -- alone has dared not only to speak of your brother John, but to pick up the mantle of what John F. Kennedy meant to Americans, and people around the world, of all faiths, persuasions, races and classes, has dared to use his ideas and terms of speech and made them believable because he believes them, and because they are true, has asked us to accept the burden of our own responsibility at the side of our president and our government and make our country be what we want it to be, and because after so much betrayal and so much loss, Americans are yearning to believe again.

How is it that at this moment, you are asked to fight this personal battle?

Senator Kennedy, our nation needs you like never before to help Barack Obama -- my classmate from Barnard/Columbia 1983 -- accomplish the work that he has set out to do. My every thought and prayer is with you for your success in beating this brain cancer so that you can lead the effort on the Hill and win the health care battle. History owes you that. We Americans and our elected representatives owe you and ourselves that.

I will personally do everything in my power to help. My husband is an ob/gyn in the public hospital system in France, working in one of the top three Paris area hospitals for maternal and fetal medicine, and has been for more than 25 years. He is an extraordinary doctor and surgeon, respected by all his colleagues. I have known him for 20 years and moved to France to marry him 6 years ago. To watch him and his colleagues work is to know why more than 90 senators and congress people were right in supporting a single-payer system, such as France, Canada, the UK and most of Europe enjoy.

I know that government-run health care doesn't in the least diminish choice or quality of medical care. On the contrary, it alone enhances and guarantees both, and I will write to every member of Mybarackobama.com to talk about that and ask people to continue to work beyond the election in November to make sure that no opposition effort can be mounted during this administration to block true, universal, affordable health care reform. Every American who stands with Senator Obama for the change we believe in and the government we want must stand again and be heard to make this reform the nation's law and your legacy.

Get well, Senator Kennedy, we love, admire and support you and your family, and as Paul S. Grogan was reported in this morning’s New York Times as having said, we need our Horatio at the helm.

Sincerely yours,

Sisyphe

“I am asking you to believe. Not just in my ability to bring about real change in Washington… I’m asking you to believe in yours.”

-- Senator Barack Obama
....

Mondays, for want of inspiration

Sunday, clouds moving back in

(from the left corner of the principle terrace)

For those of you who don't know or remember this place, the house is to my right, and I am at the edge of the planting bed where the terrace drops to the narrow strip of lawn bordered by the raised planting beds of the second terrace below. The terra cotta pots of rosemary and anthemis mark the central stair to the lowest level, and the stairs on either side to the intermediary terraces.

You can just make out the urns of Surfinias, Calibrachoa and Diaschia and the leaves of the Hemerocallis along the right intermediate terrace. They serve the role of decorating the concrete railing that prevents one from falling the 3 meters to the bottom level.

On the left side, there is nothing to keep one from continuing straight on once the stairs end and stepping onto a fragile trellis beyond that covers the unused heat pump for the pool. Guests nearly did exactly that the other day, throwing Audouin into a panic for the youngest, a niece and our friends' 8-year-old daughter. I figured rightly that they needed to almost do it only once to get the hang of the left-turn at the bottom of the steps, along between the forsythia and the St. John's Wort, and on down the precarious steps to the gazebo.

The white-flowering tree marks the edge of our property. The taller trees and the bit of light green field beyond belonging to various others, although we have the benefit of open space projecting on beyond the limits of our own garden.

....

And, another first
The Clematis 'Nelly Moser' opens

It remains as insignificant as the Beautybush in front of it, but the first bloom has appeared.

Next year, it will grow faster, having established itself. I will be hoping for the entire 2 meter high ivy-covered wall to be a mass of blooms.

....

The pool

Is coming along. Thank you for inquiring.

I'll let you know when you can bring your suit and towel and enjoy a sunbath and refreshing dip.
....

Pool's open!

and the water's...

... clear, but the bottom is thick and green!

Je vous prie de bien vouloir patienter pour la version française, qui ne doit pas trop se tarder à arriver.

19 mai
Ca il y est. Elle est tout en bas.

We should call this Pool pump saga, Chapter 3.

Audouin went Thursday and got the PVC piping he needed, along with another shut-off valve so we don't have to grope around behind the door in the near-dark for the vacuum, skimmers and bottom drain valves every time we need to close them to open the pump filter to empty the basket, or turn off the pump -- his good idea is that we turn this one between the pump and the others to keep the water in the lines -- and spent all of Saturday sawing and fitting pipe, making connections and then hooking up the motor.

Unfortunately, the wiring diagram was in German, and the wires were not the usual colors for the line voltage, neutral and ground, so he felt a little nervous doing what he was pretty sure was right to connect it. I don't blame him. Do it wrong and that could be nearly 600 euros down the drain (ha ha).

"Do you want me to call Mike?" That's my brother-in-law near Philly. A very handy person for anything and everything.

"That might be a good idea." So, I scrambled to find my old address book with my sister's cell phone number in it (nearly 8 years old, but who changes their number these days?) and called them at the edge of the baseball diamond. My younger nephew had a game, if it weren't rained out. It rang.

"Hello?"

"You didn't change your number!"

"No-oo," a little chuckle, and then, "who is this?"

"Your sister." She laughed out loud. I haven't called her on her cell phone in probably 6 years. I could feel her relief -- it was only someone a little bit crazy. "Is Mike next to you?" She handed the phone over, while I yelled for Audouin to come back from watching the dogs out the bottom gate, by the field, to ask his question.

"I told you what it was. Can't you just ask him?"

"Yeah, but he'll probably have another one that I won't be able to answer."

"Just ask him what "R" means."

"Resistance?" Mike offered, but it didn't make sense to him. "Can you send me a picture?"

"I don't have your phone number."

"I get my email on my phone." Oh. Right.

I love the 21st century. Back in the 20th, only as far back as when I was a kid, it was a big deal to call internationally. Now, my French husband has a doubt on the pool pump wiring, his American wife calls her brother-in-law in the States, where he is watching his younger son play baseball, and half an hour later, he has received three digital photos of the wiring diagram and the wiring box and emailed back to say-- since the "R" was actually an "L" -- that "L" has to mean "line voltage" and to go ahead and connect her up the way Audouin thought he should.

Back at the pump in the near dark (the last bulb burned out), connect a few wires, flip the switch, and Hmmmmmmmmm -- a lovely new pool pump whirs into action. Quiet as a Prius.

Yes, he is smiling happily in that blurry picture.

....

This morning, we took off the cover -- covered with a ton of rotted leaves (I hear you Mom, the thing you bought, I know) that made it weigh, well, a ton -- and I poured in the algae killer, the pH corrector (it was almost right on, unbelievably) and filled the skimmers with chlorine shock tablets and headed back to see where he had disappeared for so long.

"It's leaking all over, and if it's what I think it is, then my work is bad, and it's bad." Always the pessimist.

He spent a rotten half hour, but it was the joint from the top of the pump to the waste line (or something like that), and after taking it apart several times, he got it to work just fine. It's a beautiful thing. My heart was singing! We might even be able to turn the bottom drain back on for a better circulation of water. The old pump was the same, but it worked nowhere near as well as this one. I can actually see the water in the skimmers agitate and the water move around the pool without the help of us in it, flailing our limbs. What is crystal clear is that the old pump was on its last legs. This is going to be a much easier season for maintenance.

As for wildlife, Audouin and I removed 3 frogs, and I found another 2 awhile later when I went to recheck the chlorine level and add more shock. Don't tell him. I put those two in the basin up by the house, with the others and the fish. The first three I did as he preferred, saying something about when we finally empty the basin to fix the leak, it will be just more frogs to deal with, and carried them in the tin watering can over to the bras mort of the Seine -- still water in a sort of side arm of the river -- accompanied by Rapide and Baccarat. I fell on my rear, losing footing on the slippery, vine covered bank, but managed to get them into the water with the ducks and the other frogs.

Tonight, I add the stuff that makes the algae clump together, turn off the pump, and in the morning, it all gets vacuumed to waste. In a few days, we should have a clear blue pool, but still far too cold for anyone over 8 years old.

All's well that ends well, for now.
....

et l’eau est…
claire, mais le fond est épais et vert !

On devrait appeler ceci la saga de la pompe de la piscine, chapitre 3.

Audouin alla jeudi et acheta la plomberie nécessaire pour le raccordement de la pompe, avec encore une vanne pour que nous n’avions pas à chercher à tâtons les vannes du balai; des skimmers et de la bombe de fond chaque fois que nous devons les fermer à fin d’ouvrir la pompe pour vider le panier ou arrêter la filtration. Maintenant, nous pouvons les fermer tous les trois avec une seule vanne entre la pompe et les vannes pour chacun des tuyaux. Il consacra toute sa journée samedi à couper et raccorder la tuyauterie et à connecter l’électricité.

Malheureusement, le diagramme électrique fut en allemand, et les fils ne furent pas les couleurs habituelles pour le chaud, le neutre et la terre, alors il se sentit un peu nerveux à faire ce qu’il fut quasi certain était correct. Je le comprenais. Connecte les mauvais fils et cela pourrait résulter en 600 euros perdus.

"Tu veux que j’appelle Mike?" Mike est mon beau-frère aux Etats-Unis, près de Philadelphia. C’est quelqu’un doué en tout, et je l’appelle pour me dépanner en tout et n’importe quoi, surtout en informatique et en électricité ?

"Oui, je pense que ça serait une bonne idée." Alors, je courus aller cherche mon ancien carnet d’adresse avec le numéro du portable de ma sœur (il date d’il y a 8 ans, mais qui change de numéro de portable ces temps-ci ?) et les appeler au bord du diamant de baseball. Mon neveux, le plus jeunes des deux, eut un match de baseball, s’il ne faisait pas un temps trop moche. Il sonna.

"Allo?"

"Ah, t’as pas changé de numéro!"

"Non," elle gloussa, et puis "c’est qui?"

"Ta soeur." Elle rit. Je ne l’avais pas appeler sur son portable depuis un bon 6 ans. Je pouvais sentir son soulagement – c’était quelqu’un juste un tout petit peu fou. "Est-ce que Mike est là à côté de toi?" Elle lui passa le portable le temps que je hurlai après Audouin pour qu’il revienne de là où je l’avais envoyer rester garder les chiennes l’autre côté du portail en bas, dans le chemin qui longe le champs, pour qu’il pose sa question. Il s’énerva.

"Je te l’ai déjà dit. C’est quoi le “R” et le “N”. Je pense que le “N” est “neutre”, mais c’est quoi le “R” ? Tu ne peux pas juste lui poser la question?"

"Oui, mais il aura probablement une autre à laquelle je ne pourrais pas répondre."

"Demande lui juste qu’est-ce qu’il veut dire le “R”, s’il te plait."

"Résistance?" offert Mike, mais cela ne lui faisait pas de sens. "Pourrais-tu m’envoyer une photo?"

"Mais je n’ai pas ton numéro."

"Je reçoit l'email sur mon portable." Mais oui. C’est vrai. Je n’y ai pas pensé.

J’adore le 21ème siècle. Si on remonte seulement aussi loin que mon enfance dans le 20ème siècle, c’était déjà une histoire d’appeler international. Aujourd’hui, mon mari français a un soucis pour la connexion électrique de la pompe de la piscine, sa femme américaine appelle son beau-frère aux States, où il est en train d’assister à un match de baseball de l’un de ses enfants, et une demi heure plus tard, il a reçu trois photo numériques du diagramme électrique et du moteur et a envoyé une réponse pour dire – puisque le “R” fut un “L” à la fin de compte – que le “N” doit être “neutre” et le “L” doit vouloir dire “line voltage”, ou le chaud, et se concerta avec Audouin. Une fois à nouveau à la pompe dans le pénombre, car la dernière ampoule s’est grillée le moment où je l'allumai, connecte quelques fils, allume, et Hmmmmmmmmm – une superbe nouvelle pompe de piscine se met en route. Silencieuse comme un Prius.

Oui, il est en train de sourire à la pompe dans cette photo.

....

Ce matin, nous enlevâmes la bâche – qui fut couverte avec un ton de feuilles mortes qui furent que la bâche pesa, bon, un ton – et je mis le produit qui tue les algues, le correcteur de pH (qui fut Presque bon, incroyablement), et remplis les skimmers de chlore choc et allai voir où fut disparut Audouin depuis si longtemps. Il fut là à côté de la pompe.

"Ca fuit de partout, et si c’est ce que je pense que c’est, alors mon travail et mauvais, et c’est très mauvais." Toujours le pessimiste.

Il passa une demie heure de merde, mais heureusement pour lui, la pompe fuyait d’une connexion en haut de la pompe, où elle s’accord au refoulement, et après l’avoir détaché raccordé plusieurs fois, il réussit à la faire marcher sans problème. Ce fut une chose de beauté. Mon cœur chantait ! Nous allons même pouvoir, peut-être, décondamner la bombe de fond pour regagner une meilleure circulation de l’eau. La vielle pompe fut de la même puissance, mais elle ne marcha plus de tout aussi bien que cette nouvelle pompe. Je peux voir l’eau tourner dans les skimmers et circuler vigoureusement dans la piscine dans l’assistance de nos bras et nos jambes. Ce qui est très clair est que la vielle pompe fut en fin de vie. Cette saison va être beaucoup plus facile en entretien de la piscine.

A ce qui concerne la nature dans la piscine, Audouin récupérâmes 3 grenouilles, et je trouvai encore 2 plus tard quand j’allai vérifier le niveau de chlore et rajouter de produit. Ne lui dites pas. Je mis ces deux là dans le basin près de la maison, avec les grenouilles qui y habitant déjà et les poisons rouges. Pour les trois premières, je fis comme préféra Audouin, disant quelque chose comme quand nous allions en fin vider le basin pour réparer sa fuite, nous n’aurons qu’encore des grenouilles à sauver, et je les amenai dans un arrosoir jusqu’au bras mort de la Seine, accompagnée par Rapide et Baccarat. Je tombai sur les fesses, perdant pied sur le bord glissant et couvert de vignes, mais réussis à les libérer dans l’eau avec les canards et les autres grenouilles. Celles qui n’ont toujours pas découvert notre piscine.

Ce soir, je rajoute le floculant, arête la pompe, et demain matin, je l’aspire aux égouts. Dans quelques jours de plus, nous devrions avoir une piscine d’un bleu clair comme de cristal, mais encore trop froid pour tout ceux qui ont plus que huit ans.

Tout est bien qui fini bien, à présent.
....

Temps variable

Les fleurs de l'Arbre de Judée, Cercis siliquastrum

font leurs fruits en gousses aplaties verts

Pour toi, la seule amie française (je pense) qui lit ce blog, j'écris ce mot en français. Il sera bref aujourd'hui, car je produis des traductions des dernières entrées en français. J'avais été un peu paresseuse car je savais que tu avais été en vacances sans accès à un ordinateur, et, en suite, prise par le boulot.

Il fait un temps affreux ajourd'hui. Des moments de forte pluie alternant avec de belles éclaircies. Vous alliez venir cet après-midi... heureusement vous avez décidé finalement de venir dimanche dernier, avant l'arrivée des orages.

Ou, vous venez encore et je n'ai pas fait les courses et ne suis pas préparée de tout!

Bisous.
....

Exquisite grace and delicacy

Lonicera x heckrottii 'Goldflame'

Goldflame Honeysuckle

Pour la version française -- disponible de temps en autre encore un petit moment, si quelqu'un la lit de temps en temps -- naviguer en bas, svp.

There is really nothing to say when you look at this. I wish you could lean in close and breathe in the light fragrance. The plants, in for about 10 days now, are sending up little shoots, and the Ghislaine de Féligonde Roses (Turbat, 1916) -- a musk rambler that gives clusters of orange-yellow roses, turning to creamy buff in the hot sun, but tolerates shade, where its color is enhanced, and poorer soils -- that will intertwine with the honeysuckle and clematis in velvety red-violet, is starting to open.

Having shared my views on Jhumpa Lahiri's The Namesake -- hotly received by a couple of the members of our book discussion group, one of whom very graciously conceded that I had a point concerning a certain lack of character development and stereotyping among the secondary characters and suggested that I read Lahiri's latest work, Unaccustomed Earth, and her first highly-regarded and award-grabbing collection of short stories Interpreter of Maladies -- I later cringed in yet more shame for having not kept them just a little bit more to myself.

I'm not sure that book discussion groups, even among very bright and highly educated, independently-minded women is really intended for literary criticism, and I have decided that I am better among my plants and their flowers, reinforcing my deepening tendency toward solitude and reflection (read paranoia).

At least they have the qualities that I am missing.

....

Lonicera x heckrottii 'Goldflame'
Chèvrefeuille Goldflame

Il n'y a rien à dire de plus quand on regarde cette photo. J'aimerais que vous puissiez vous pencher près d'elle et sentir son parfum délicat. Les plantes, en place pour à peu près 10 jours, sont en train de pousser des nouvelles pousses vers le soleil, et les rosiers Ghislaine de Féligonde (Turbat, 1916) -- un rosier liane, sarmenteux, au parfum musqué et sucré, très remontant donnant des bouquets de petites roses abricot virant au crème pale en plein soleil, mais qui supporte très bien un mur nord (sa couleur restant plus intense) et même un sol pauvre -- qui s'enchevêtrera avec le chèvrefeuille et les clématites en rouge-violet velouté, commence à ouvrir.

Ayant partagé mes avis sur le romain The Namesake de Jhumpa Lahiri -- assez sévèrement reçus par deux des membres de notre group de discussion de littérature, l'une des deux concéda qu'il y avait du mérite dans mes critiques sur son développement des personnages, à part les principaux, et suggéra que je lis son tout dernier, Unaccustomed Earth, et son premier, une collection de histoires courtes, qui fut très bien reçu et primé, Interpreter of Maladies -- je regrettai en suite et me récriminai de ne les pas avoir gardés un tout petit peu plus à moi-même.

Je ne suis pas convaincue que les groupes de discussion de la littérature, même entre des femmes brillantes et fort éduquées, indépendantes d'esprit ait vraiment pour but la critique littéraire, et vue de mes failles de tempérament, je me suis décidée que je ferais mieux de rester parmi mes plantes et ses fleurs, renforçant ma tendance à la solitude et à la réflexion (voir paranoïa).

Au moins elles ont ces qualités que je manque.
....