I admit it! I’m a sucker for sweet peas. Always have been and think that I always will be.
Sweet peas were not a part of my childhood. The first time they invaded my senses was when I began making visits to English gardens in early adulthood.
My first up close encounter with sweet peas was when I made a visit to Sissinghurst where I had set up a meeting with Nigel Nicholson, the son of Vita Sackville West and Harold Nicholson, the creators of this magnificent garden. By this time, Nigel was quite elderly but very dashing, with something of an aristocratic air about him. He was living in the cottage off of the White Garden.
After talking with me about Vita and other topics related to the history of the garden for a few moments, he asked me to walk outside with him where he began to carefully snip some sweet peas, in a variety of pastel and vibrant tones. Nigel brought a bunch of the sweet peas into the cottage and arranged them in a simple vase, all the while explaining to me that a friend of his, a Member of Parliament, was coming over for lunch and that he wanted these sweet peas to be the centerpiece.
He also made it clear to me that I wasn’t going to be invited to this luncheon by saying in a gentlemanly manner: “My dear, I would love to invite you for lunch. But I’m afraid that we, two old men, would bore you”.
So with a sweep of his hands, he graciously ushered me out of his abode, making it quite clear that the sweet peas were invited to this encounter. But that I was not. And you know what? I totally understood why. Their silent, delicate beauty was astounding.
It was after this interlude, I believe, that I became captivated with sweet peas. To say that I wasn’t successful growing them on my first try would be an understatement. Somehow it took me several years to get the timing of germinating and planting them outdoors. But when I finally did succeed, it was a great victory for me.
Even on a hot, sticky day such as this one, where I rush out into the garden early morning before the heat settles in, I feel the need, almost on a longing, to nestle up close and smell these little gems, inhaling their intoxicating scent: And for at least one moment, gazing at their magnificence.