Several years ago, I had a different home with a very large yard. It was a good thing then, as my kids were young, and my oldest boy loved anything to do with plants and growing things.
When he was about twelve, he told me he wanted a rose garden. I let him start with two. Two grew to four, four to eight and after two years, we had fifty. He would continue to add roses, because our next door neighbor belonged to a garden club, and he could never stand to be outdone. These were his children in so many ways, and he relished his time in the garden. When spring came, we would stay out of his way as his was sure they were all dead, and when fall came he was no less unpleasant because he had to “put them to bed” for the winter.
When I close my eyes I can feel the warm summer day and smell the beautiful scent of roses as it would make its way through the yard to the side of the house. I can see the pinks, oranges, reds, whites, lavenders and yellows. My personal favorite was pink, of course. The picture is one of my favorites. It was wonderful to have roses on my table all summer, and in the fall, when he bedded them down, he would cut all the blooms and bring them to me in a big bowl. I still miss this, and get tears in my eyes when I think about it. Roses were never my favorite until we had that garden.
Times change and people move. My oldest boy now lives with his partner, and grows orchids in his apartment. He still has roses on his table whenever we are there. I live in a townhome that I love. A yard and gardens would be great, if I had a partner to help me with them. For now, I can see no more rose gardens in my future. I do, however, have ample room for plants and pots. Perhaps a tree rose on the deck, perhaps two. Then I can sit on my deck surrounded by the beautiful scent and remember the rose garden of yesterday.