The Hunting of the Bloom

'Just the place for a Snark! 'the Bellman cried,
As he landed his crew with care;
Supporting each man on the top of the tide
By a finger entwined in his hair. *

Oops, wrong hunting party, sorry.
Rosa Moonlight

If you're wondering whether I found any blooms on my hunt for GBBD organised by Carol of MDG, the long answer is: I hunted high and I hunted low and lo and behold what did I stumble on after searching for hours and hours (minutes actually) apart from the usual suspects such as this one
and this
and this one?
A marigold in a wheelbarrow! Colour me surprised. What else did I find outside?
A yellow Primula in the potager,
one lonely, slightly moth eaten Periwinkle
a yellow wildflower (one of 3 blooms actually, amazing isn't it?)
and, although we've had several frosts and some snow, the white borage is still going strong.
In the Victorian greenhouse the Solanum crispum album is flowering its little heart out and the pelargoniums are still going to the blooming ball.
On the terrace the Camellia is about to burst forth in vivid pink
while the Christmas box has flowers that are hardly noticeable, but their scent makes more than up for it. Sorry, there is no scratch and sniff widget available yet.
In the front garden the Winter Jasmin is flowering with gay abandon and so is the exceptionally long flowering Rosa Moonlight.
As you can see she is still forming buds! In December!! Simply amazing!!!

After my hunt I quickly went inside as it is quite nippy here. Inside I continued my hunt for more blooms and this is what I found:
A soft pink Cyclamen and some Hyacinths,
an orchid,
some African Violets,
well hidden away from the Horrible Wreaker Of Havoc amongst said plants,
aka Vita Le Chat Terrible, lurking in the conservatory behind several Cyclamen and a beautiful Christmas Cactus.
While in the conservatory my nose started to twitch as it caught the scent of the wonderful blossom on my little lime tree.
And dangling from the ceiling are the pretty red flowers of the Aeschynanthus. Well this is me, all bloomed out how about your blooms gentle reader?

copyright 2008: Y.E.W. Heuzen

* The Hunting of the Snark by Lewis Carroll

You can travel round the world, you can take loads of drugs, you can read poetry, indulge in weird sex, but at the end of it all, you must look after your own garden.
Tom Hodgskinson, Digging for Anarchy, 2006