I'm thinking they enjoyed the use of the miata a bit too much because it sure took them a while to return. In the meantime my dad, my mom and I picked at the chips and ate too many olives. We had to open another can of them when LMA and Annette finally returned.
I spent most of the rest of the day helping my mom with her roses. I associate roses with my mom. When I was a little kid she used to wear this perfume called "Roses Roses," and she has by far the best rose garden on the street and probably the ward. One of our neighbors was walking by and she kept complimenting mom's rose garden mentioning how beautiful it isevery year. More than one little kid has rung the doorbell asking if they can take a rose home to their mother.
Every year for Mother's Day for over 10 years running my older brother has purchased her a new rose bush and it's fun to see roses in nearly every corner of the yard. I think my mom starts getting excited this time of year as she trims on them and trying to think about what new one will be coming.
I love the variety of colors, how each bush has its own personality. I love how some roses have a really powerful fragrance and some seem to have nearly nothing at all. I love the dichotomy of roses...how they are so delicate and elegant and so raw and fierce and thorny at the same time. Roses must always be handled with care.
I am planning on puchasing some rose bushes for the west side of the house where I live so I can have roses in the summertime. I want to float them in decanters in the house. I want to have a vase of them at work. I want to be able to show up at a friend's house with a random rose to show I care.
Roses are a loaded symbol. Give a red one and it means "I love you." Give a yellow and it means, "I value you as a friend."
Geneticists in the last year unwittingly came up with the solution to the holy grail of rose breeding. They managed to come up with a BLUE rose. Initially they were working on how drugs metabolize in the liver and noticed a genetically engineered bacteria kept turning blue. A member of the team grew roses and wondered if some of the genetic tweaking they were doing could be applicable to roses... and sho' nuff it was. They are still futzing with it and it will be a few years on the market but it raises all sorts of interesting what ifs. What if you could grow say, blue COTTON? Kind of interesting. All natural cotton blue jeans. NEAT.
But I love roses. All kinds. I love the powerful Abraham Lincolns. I love the charm and whimsy of Double Delights. I love the rippled petals of Midas Touch. I love the quiet serenity of mom's "Peace Roses" she planted to calm tensions between her and a neighbor. I love them all.
So it was an enjoyable day, helping trim them, feeding them, watering them and when my parents weren't looking, talking to them telling them to grow big and strong and send forth a LOT of buds.
I love roses. I love them all.