My Dream Garden

I've been reading Rebecca by Daphne Du Maurier and I came across the description of my dream garden:

"The daffodils were in bloom, stirring in the evening breeze, golden heads cupped upon lean stalks, and however many you might pick there would be no thinning of the ranks, they were massed like an army, shoulder to shoulder. On a bank below the lawns, crocuses were planted, golden, pink, and mauve, but by this time they would be past their best, dropping and fading, like the pallid snowdrops. The primrose was more vulgar, a homely pleasant creature who appeared in every cranny like a weed. Too early yet for blue bells, their heads were still hidden beneath last year's leaves, but when they came, dwarfing the more humble violet, they choked the very bracken in the woods, and with their color made a challenge to the sky."

Sigh. Among my cramped containers and tiny raised beds, I dream of vast expanses of flowers.

I recommend Rebecca to all gardeners. The lush descriptions of the gorgeous gardens of Manderley will make you swoon.