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| Prince Volonski's Castle by Foutoux All Rights Reserved L.Ivison Copyright 2013 |
Pietro Volonski was a Russian Prince who had fled Russia just before the Revolution. He had bought a chateau in N. in France and now his son cultivated a rose garden which was famous throughout the region. Prince Volonski, now 70 years old himself, was particularly proud of his Crimson Niege, a hybrid rose which bloomed throughout the winter. When the hortentias had brown heads and the copper beeches held tight to their curled leaves from October, the Crimson Niege bloomed under the grey skies of N. in the rain and the frost.
One morning early in March the Prince woke, stretched, walked to the window and saw the landscape covered in six inches of snow. A stone fish in the middle of the fountain spouted water which had frozen in mid air, icicles hung from the chateau, and the birds shivered.
The Prince dressed hurriedly and planting his boots in the fine snow he reached his rose garden where all the other bushes, cut-back and jagged, had not so much as a leaf. But his Crimson Niege was in full bloom, and the rich velvet petals were covered in white power. The Prince brushed the dusty snow off each rose blowing the last flakes off the buds. He worked slowly smelling each bloom and marveled at his invention.
He returned home, kicked off his boots, shook the snow off his face, now as crimson as the roses and sat by the fire. He considered that with this first success there was no reason why he shouldn't bring some more colour to the winter landscape.
The following Spring he planted a pear tree which, if all went well, the Prince calculated, would bear its fruit in January. Sure enough, under the grey skies golden pears hung from every branch. By February the snow had fallen and the green leaves were coated with snow - each pear had its own bonnet and the hungry birds pecked at the fruit.
The Prince went out to admire his new work, reached up, brushed the snow off a ripe pear and bit into it. The juice ran down his chin and he threw the core over his shoulder.
The following year he had cultivated lilac trees which bloomed from Christmas to Easter - lilac of every shade from white to deep purple and when he looked out of his window in mid-winter he saw the crimson roses, the golden pears and the lilac trees.
Gradually, his winter landscape was as rich in colour as any summer's day and then he realised with dismay that when May came he had lost his delight in the Spring.
Foutoux.
All Rights Reserved Copyright L.Ivison 2013
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