I had occasion to be over at my daughter in laws home. She has a wonderful home and very nice yard. The American dream personified.All that is missing is a picket fence. I'll have to speak with her about that one day.
I usually mow the grass or do the weed eating part anyway. I enjoy it and am glad to help out. I live in an apartment, so have no yard of my own to attend to, so I adopted hers. It is an arrangement that works well. I don't think my son minds too much either.
The grass cutting is about over for this year. Time to rake up the fallen leaves,pull up the tomato vines and clear the garden out. A final trim to the various bushes is in order as well. Patio furniture stored away and garden hoses drained to prevent freezing. All the little things to attend too. Then I noticed it, a final rose in bloom. There, on the rose bush climbing up the trestle, a series of blooms. All, save one, showing brown around their edges.
These roses are a pale pink in color. Almost a blush one might say. Little attention is paid to them. They are not fussed over or receiving special treatment,yet they thrive. Despite all I have heard about growing roses,they survive. My wife does occasionally trim them. She,like I, is no great gardener. Neither of us have special skill or abilities in that department. Put a plant in some dirt, water it and hope it grows. That's our method. We will use miracle grow when necessary.
The thing is as I looked at that rose I thought, the last rose of summer. Soon it will be gone and nothing but a bare branch will remain. A branch with thorns upon it and a few withered leaves. Nothing attractive about that. And there it will remain throughout the winter. Frost and snow will set on it and burden it's small branches. The cold causing it to hibernate,waiting for the warmth of spring.
So, I took a picture of it. I'll put this picture in a file on my computer. Then along about January of February I'll pull that picture up. Place it on the desktop and admire it for a while. It will serve as a reminder that come spring it's brother or sister will appear on the same branch.
When the night has been too lonely and the road has been too long
And you think that love is only for the lucky and the strong
Just remember in the winter,far beneath the bitter snow
Lies the seed,that with the suns love,in the spring becomes the Rose.
Bette Midler
I usually mow the grass or do the weed eating part anyway. I enjoy it and am glad to help out. I live in an apartment, so have no yard of my own to attend to, so I adopted hers. It is an arrangement that works well. I don't think my son minds too much either.
The grass cutting is about over for this year. Time to rake up the fallen leaves,pull up the tomato vines and clear the garden out. A final trim to the various bushes is in order as well. Patio furniture stored away and garden hoses drained to prevent freezing. All the little things to attend too. Then I noticed it, a final rose in bloom. There, on the rose bush climbing up the trestle, a series of blooms. All, save one, showing brown around their edges.
These roses are a pale pink in color. Almost a blush one might say. Little attention is paid to them. They are not fussed over or receiving special treatment,yet they thrive. Despite all I have heard about growing roses,they survive. My wife does occasionally trim them. She,like I, is no great gardener. Neither of us have special skill or abilities in that department. Put a plant in some dirt, water it and hope it grows. That's our method. We will use miracle grow when necessary.
The thing is as I looked at that rose I thought, the last rose of summer. Soon it will be gone and nothing but a bare branch will remain. A branch with thorns upon it and a few withered leaves. Nothing attractive about that. And there it will remain throughout the winter. Frost and snow will set on it and burden it's small branches. The cold causing it to hibernate,waiting for the warmth of spring.
So, I took a picture of it. I'll put this picture in a file on my computer. Then along about January of February I'll pull that picture up. Place it on the desktop and admire it for a while. It will serve as a reminder that come spring it's brother or sister will appear on the same branch.
When the night has been too lonely and the road has been too long
And you think that love is only for the lucky and the strong
Just remember in the winter,far beneath the bitter snow
Lies the seed,that with the suns love,in the spring becomes the Rose.
Bette Midler
Lovely post, and lovely rose too. Our roses are blooming mightily,still...and the pink ones will be until some time in Nov. The others may go as long, or longer, but I'll tell you, it's loaded with buds. We do nothing much to them but an occasional Miracle Grow. Other than that, they are watered sometimes...and rained upon rarely. They just seem to like things the way they are...so that's the way it'll be. Ya see, I'm a listener! :-)
ReplyDeleteThanks, Ben!