FleursTuesday, 30 June, 2009
The pink rose at bottom is, I think, a perfect rose, and it blooms today, June 30, which was my parents' anniversary. My father was an avid and proud gardener of both flowers and vegetables. His most prized flowers were tea roses and peonies; his most prized vegetables were big, red, beefy tomatoes.
My mother took pleasure in my father's gardens, perhaps especially because he did all the work: all the tilling of soil and planting and weeding. She had her hands full with us five children. We siblings were later pressed into weeding and trimming labors, and although we grumbled plenty, we are all appreciative gardeners as a result. None of us is as good at it as my father was, though.
Lately, I realized that I've been replicating the plants and trees of my childhood home: rhododendrons, azaleas, onions, tomatoes and herbs, maple and pear trees, and of course, peonies and roses, roses, roses.
These flowers are so delicious to the eye and that delicate rose, I agree, is simply perfect, as is this tribute to your parents. But perhaps the most enduring flower bed you nurture is the one in your imagination where your stories take root and grow.
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