Who'd envy a sweet pea? By rights they should reign over the choicest spot in the garden - looking and smelling as ravishing as they do - whereas more often than not you track them down to a row by the cabbage patch where they languish in regimental splendour ready for cutting. Though I think them lovely as cut flowers, my enthusiasm for sweet peas in the garden is boundless. I grow them up everything - the climbing roses, the apple trees. (Felicity Bryan)
This has been a good year for sweetpeas in our garden by the sea. I picked my first bunch in early June, from plants sown in the greenhouse last October, and am still picking a couple of bunches a week from a mid-February sowing. Their fabulous scent and colours - white, pink, crimson and maroon, and every shade of mauve from the palest lilac to blackberry ripple to indigo have been a delight all summer long.
|Sweet Peas in the Rosebank garden August 2011|
Sweet peas on tiptoe flight, With wings of gentle flush, o'er delicate white (Keats)
The old-fashioned carnation name pinks comes from the serrated flower edges, which look as if cut with pinking shears. And the name of the color pink is said to come from these perennials, which have been popular in gardens for hundreds of years. The many dianthus species and hybrids come in red, white, orange, purple, cranberry, and of course, many shades of pink. Flower size ranges from less than an inch to several inches wide, and height ranges from just a few inches to several feet tall.
You have to agree that pinks are a must in the scented garden, although they seem not to be a common as they once were.