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October the Seventeeth, 2011

机译:2011年10月17日

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The windows are wide to the garden and a winey air fills the rooms. I open the cold wood-burner to let out a sooty bird which, like Alice, had fallen into a perplexing dimension. The white cat basks all day in full sun. 'Gloire de Dijon' petals and ash leaves find their way into the house. They promise cold tomorrow. But what an autumn! Two whole weeks of added summer, and well before Luke. The reigning bloom is my yucca, which is a three foot stem of maybe fifty greeny-white bells. There are some eight or so of these handsome plants in the garden to give it poise, but this is the only one in flower. Will it wither on the stem before the first frosts? Will I have to tie a plastic bag over it? Such ignominy, but better than early death. By its side a'John Clare' rose is leafless but covered in flowers. Shuffling to the new postbox — it is on a post, like the ones you see in a Western — I kick up acorns. The lawn is a kind of restaurant for rabbits, foxes and badgers, and is dimpled with shallow holes. A dozen vast oaks — the Apostles, or months of the year? — will cover it inches deep with leaves by Christmas. Today it is near-tropical. It begins with quinces rotting on the bough and concludes with writhing old laburnums which I never touch. Behind them is the walnut tree with its double association, for it reminds me that it was planted for my neighbours' golden wedding anniversary and that my dear friend Roger Deakin (1943—2006) lived at Walnut Tree Farm. Squirrels have taken most of the nuts and I scarcely get a look in. Its leaves are blackening at the edges, like Victorian mourning stationery. The orchard's Petasites hybridus — butterbur — does this before crashing into its own mulch, like spent umbrellas. Thomas Gainsbourgh, who wasborn just down the road, liked to fill-in the foreground with butterbur. Some said because his wife's maiden name was Burr, others that it was a quick way to fill a space. It tumbles early and blooms early. You find it on ancient farms, where it speaksof childhood. Its winter death is brief. It flowers before it leafs and can hardly wait. I look at its dark patches in the sunshine, where it makes its theatrical exit and where it has probably lived for centuries.
机译:窗户通向花园,窗外充满葡萄酒的气息。我打开冷木炉,放出一只乌黑的鸟,像爱丽丝一样陷入了一个困惑的境界。白色的猫整日晒晒太阳。 “ Gloire de Dijon”花瓣和白蜡木叶子进入了房屋。他们保证明天会冷。可是秋天!整个夏天增加了整整两个星期,而且比卢克还早。盛开的花是我的丝兰,它是一个三英尺的茎,可能有五十个绿白色的铃铛。花园里大约有八种左右这些漂亮的植物可以使它保持平衡,但这是花中唯一的一种。在初霜之前它会在茎上枯萎吗?我需要在上面绑一个塑料袋吗?这样的昧,但比早逝更好。在其旁边,一朵“约翰·克莱尔”(John Clare)的玫瑰没有叶子,但被花朵覆盖。改组到新的邮箱-就像您在西方杂志中看到的那样,它在帖子中-我踢了橡子。草坪是种兔子,狐狸和badge的餐厅,并且有浅坑。一打大橡树-使徒,还是一年中的几个月? -到圣诞节时将用树叶覆盖一英寸深。今天,它是近热带的。它以在树枝上腐烂开始,最后以我从未接触过的扭动的老金莲花结束。在它们的后面是具有双重关联的核桃树,因为它使我想起它是为邻居的结婚纪念日而种植的,而我亲爱的朋友罗杰·迪金(Roger Deakin,1943年至2006年)居住在核桃树农场。松鼠吃了大多数坚果,我几乎没看一眼。它的叶子在边缘变黑,就像维多利亚时代的哀悼文具一样。果园的Petasites杂交种-款冬-在撞毁自己的覆盖物之前就这样做了,就像用过的雨伞一样。刚出生在马路附近的托马斯·盖恩斯堡(Thomas Gainsbourgh)喜欢用胡桃填补前景。有些人说,因为他妻子的娘家姓叫伯尔(Burr),其他人则说这是填补空间的一种快捷方法。它跌倒得早,开花得早。您可以在古老的农场中找到它,那里的童年时代就在这里。其冬季死亡是短暂的。它在生叶之前就开花,几乎等不及了。我看着它在阳光下的黑暗斑块,在那里它成为戏剧性的出口,并且可能已经居住了几个世纪。

著录项

  • 来源
    《Hortus》 |2011年第100期|共6页
  • 作者

    RONALD BLYTHE;

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  • 原文格式 PDF
  • 正文语种 eng
  • 中图分类 园艺;
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