Wisteria, rhododendrons, bees and a missed opportunity.

10 May 2015

Backtracking to Andrews’ statue I walked towards the road where the cenotaph in Watts Park and the Titanic memorial almost sidetracked me. After a brief stop to look at some magnolia, past their best now, I turned towards the main attraction, at least in May. The wisteria pergola was the original reason for my visit. Back when I worked at Dream Factory this was a feature of my walks to work and I always looked forward to May and the wisteria coming into flower.

First there was one more thing to look at, a sundial, minus the actual dial. This was erected in 1901 to commemorate the coronation of Edward VII and, like Andrews’ statue, has seen better days. Apart from the missing dial the carvings around the sides are badly weathered. It’s hard to make out what they are supposed to represent but I’m told there is a rose, leek, shamrock and thistle, along with the head of Edward himself. It seems a pity the dial couldn’t be replaced and some kind of plaque put up.

Having procrastinated quite enough, I slowly walked through the arch. Sadly, I can’t share the sweet, heady scent. As always, I took way too many photos but the pendulous cream and mauve flowers are ephemeral and so beautiful when fresh and new I wanted to capture the moment and pass on some of the glory. I only wish there’d been blue sky to set it off rather than clouds but I suppose you can’t have everything.

The whole arch was alive with bees who are obviously as fond of it as I am. As can be easily seen from the shape of the flowers, wisteria belongs to the pea family. They are fast growing. In fact the largest known specimen, planted in 1894 in Sierra Madre, California, covers more than an acre and weighs two hundred and fifty tons, although how they worked that out is beyond me.  Sadly, there is no room in my garden for such a beautiful monster.

Eventually, I dragged myself away, albeit rather reluctantly, along the avenue of trees with  bright new leaves that runs through the centre of the park. The peace and tranquility of the wisteria was soon gone. This is a busy thoroughfare, filled with walkers, runners and cyclists heading towards Andrews’ statue and the fountain or, like me, Palmerston Park and the bustling city centre. You have to get up early in the morning to have the trees to yourself and it was after half past ten by this time.

It felt a little crowded to me so I turned off towards the Pavilion Cafe. Passing the miniature golf course and tennis courts, I stopped long enough to drink in the sight and scent of the lilac. Tempting as it was to stop for a reviving cup of coffee I had other things to see and do so I didn’t. Opposite the pavilion there are rose gardens but, unlike the rose I’d seen near the alpine garden, these were not in flower. Bare rose bushes do not make good photos so I carried on, across the road, to the enchanted park.

As always this little corner of Palmerston Park was bursting with flowers. There were many stops on my way along the winding path to admire the blooms. The enkianthus branches were bowed under the weight of the lovely pink veined bells and below them a veritable rainbow of bluebells, white, pink and blue. Close by the alliums were just bursting open, making me wonder why the one in my garden is so reluctant. The magnolia that made such a show the last time I was in the park are over now but the pure white bells of the piers are trying hard to make up for their absence.

The main attraction at the moment are the rhododendrons and azaleas. Every flower bed seems to be a mass of brilliant blooms of different colours. Of course I had to stop and look at them all. From deep to pale pink, white with a delicate hint of pink spots and even pale lemon, every one was a stunner. My favourite also seemed to be a winner with the bees, pale pink buds opening to large white flowers splotched with deepest red it was literally buzzing.

Of course I couldn’t stay in the parks all day, much as I’d have liked to, so, with a last look behind me, I set off towards the Bargate. When I got there people were gathered in front for one of the Sunday tours. I’d half hoped I might catch the tour of the vaults but, when I looked at my watch I realised I was too late. Perhaps if I hadn’t stopped for quite so many pictures of flowers I might have made it but, like so many things,  it will have to wait for another day.

A busker was playing piano accordion as I passed through the arch. You get a better class of busker in the Bargate it seems. After a quick stop to pick up a takeaway coffee I headed for the New Bridge and home. As it happens I hadn’t seen the last of the flowers. On the slope up to the bridge dog roses brightened my way and some ox eye daisies have beaten mine to flowering. Obviously the east of the Itchen is a little behind the west.

Thankfully the the strong winds we’ve had over the last week have calmed down a bit or I wouldn’t have even considered crossing the highest bridge over the Itchen. Even on a calm day it’s blowy up there. Down on the water canoes were setting off from the slipway by Cross House. There always seem to be canoes on the river.

When I got home I discovered Commando had been running through the parks while I’d been walking. He’d run right through the wisteria arch but we must have missed each other somehow. It may not have been the longest of Sunday walks but it was certainly not short on flowers, even if I did spend so much time admiring them that I missed out on my chance to visit the vaults. Oh well, there’s always another week.