A white rose is the emblem of Yorkshire.
We have just returned from a week in the gloriously green Yorkshire Dales, a part of the country where it still knows how to rain. August 1st is Yorkshire Day, not a sensible day to be traveling away from the county as we have missed the village institute serving up huge individual Yorkshire puddings filled with gravy!
I spent the week hacking back the exuberant growth in the pocket-handkerchief sized garden of our small Yorkshire bolt-hole. It had clearly flowered its socks off throughout June and July when I wasn't about to appreciate it, giving a good display of clematis, roses and delphiniums in time for the Best Kept Village Competition. (We were third last year.) I was kept busy dead-heading the spent flowers and cutting back the dainty but determined perennial sweet pea that had clambered into the Rosa Mundi and was also threatening clumps of phlox.
When we got home I found another rioting garden, courgettes that had become marrows and a first picking of 'Blue Lake' French beans. Hooray!
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