It has been said many times over that a picture paints a thousand words. However, as I contentedly find myself captivated by Lathyrus odoratus, that most delicious of summer's blooms, I ask myself how it could possibly be fair to share a mere picture with you. Or, for that matter, few words.
The humble sweet pea happens to be my favorite summer flower. It helps, of course, that summers in the San Francisco Bay Area rarely ever sizzle; sweet peas loathe excessive heat. On most days, the thermometer hovers around the agreeable lower- to middle-70's range. All of this, of course, makes me a fortunate girl as I am able to enjoy a bountiful flower haul throughout the entire summer season and into early autumn.
I adore sweet peas so much that I would like to propose a new holiday in their honor, National Sweet Pea Day. On this day, the ephemeral and beguiling beauty of Lathyrus odoratus will be praised and celebrated throughout the land. Gardeners will clip the flowers from their tangled vines to bring indoors by the basketful. And, for those fellow admirers who lack either a garden or a green thumb, a trip to a local florist or market to procure a bunch to bring home will be the order of the day.
If you derive as much pleasure from this old-fashioned garden staple as I do, you'll be satisfied in the knowledge that the pretty undulating blooms should be clipped with regularity. I can think of no other plant that replenishes its flowers as swiftly as the sweet pea. It is nothing short of horticultural magic! Happily, one's garden shears are pressed into service on an almost daily basis during summer's flush.
Once indoors, sweet peas should be arranged in vessels and vases and the posies placed about the house. The simple act of doing so provides me with the greatest of pleasure. It is a rite of summer I look forward to undertaking each and every year.
Won't you please join me in planting a packet or two of these older types of sweet peas in your garden over the coming year? I highly recommend an Old-Spice mix for heat resistance and, of course, for an abundant yield of colorful fragrant blooms. You will then be ready to celebrate that much longed-for future holiday, National Sweet Pea Day. Now, isn't that a day worthy of a celebration?
Photo: Chronica Domus
The humble sweet pea happens to be my favorite summer flower. It helps, of course, that summers in the San Francisco Bay Area rarely ever sizzle; sweet peas loathe excessive heat. On most days, the thermometer hovers around the agreeable lower- to middle-70's range. All of this, of course, makes me a fortunate girl as I am able to enjoy a bountiful flower haul throughout the entire summer season and into early autumn.
I adore sweet peas so much that I would like to propose a new holiday in their honor, National Sweet Pea Day. On this day, the ephemeral and beguiling beauty of Lathyrus odoratus will be praised and celebrated throughout the land. Gardeners will clip the flowers from their tangled vines to bring indoors by the basketful. And, for those fellow admirers who lack either a garden or a green thumb, a trip to a local florist or market to procure a bunch to bring home will be the order of the day.
If you derive as much pleasure from this old-fashioned garden staple as I do, you'll be satisfied in the knowledge that the pretty undulating blooms should be clipped with regularity. I can think of no other plant that replenishes its flowers as swiftly as the sweet pea. It is nothing short of horticultural magic! Happily, one's garden shears are pressed into service on an almost daily basis during summer's flush.
Lathyrus odoratus Cupani's Original (circa 1699) basking in the June sun
Photo: Chronica Domus
The sweet pea vines as photographed on a foggy day back in late June ...
Photo: Chronica Domus
... and yesterday, mid-August, still going strong
Photo: Chronica Domus
Daily cutting encourages a profusion of blooms
Photo: Chronica Domus
Once indoors, sweet peas should be arranged in vessels and vases and the posies placed about the house. The simple act of doing so provides me with the greatest of pleasure. It is a rite of summer I look forward to undertaking each and every year.
Ah heaven!... how I wish I could share the exquisite perfume wafting from these blooms with you
Photo: Chronica Domus
Every room, no matter its size or decoration, will surely be enhanced by the delicate beauty and scent put forth by these posies. At least, that is, if you select wisely and cultivate the old-fashioned heirloom varieties. Some may argue that the daintier pink and white blooms of Painted Lady (circa 1730) for example, or those of Lathyrus odoratus America, a rich raspberry-red and white striped example dating back to 1896 are not as showy or as large as modern hybrids. On that score, I am in agreement. However, these are among the many older sweet pea strains I favor and believe to be far superior not only in their form and beauty, but in their scrumptious scent, an attribute so often lacking in modern sweet peas. Why deny yourself one of nature's most luscious and exuberant scents I say!
As I meandered through the house this past Sunday afternoon, while snapping away with my camera to bring you the images you see below, it was as though I was being carried away upon a fruit and spice scented cloud. Each room was saturated with that oh-so exquisitely delicious fragrance unique to older sweet peas. I won't even pretend to do justice to the scent with mere words. You'll just have to believe me when I tell you the agreeable air in those rooms could rival that of any fancy perfumery.
A bedside posy to sweeten the air and delight the eye
Photo: Chronica Domus
A vase on the kitchen counter brimming with resplendent purple and violet sweet peas
Photo: Chronica Domus
Photo: Chronica Domus
A diminutive posy of pink and cream, and a lone striated Lathyrus odoratus America bloom, is placed upon a table in the corner of the drawing room ...
Photo: Chronica Domus
... and its twin posy is perched atop the secretary bookcase to enliven an
otherwise quiet corner
Photo: Chronica Domus
It is now midway through August and I've been clipping at the gangly sweet pea vines since late-June. The blooms, I am pleased to report, exhibit no sign of dwindling just yet. Over the coming weeks I anticipate the good fortune of filling my vases with many more splendid stalks of Cupani's Original, America, Painted Lady, and other heirloom strains I planted in the spring.
Late-afternoon summer light rakes across a sweet pea arrangement
Photo: Chronica Domus
