I'd love to have a garden profuse with plants and flowers but alas only ivy and a large bamboo have survived my tender loving care, but there is one that we forget about because its so small we don't really notice it.
My friend gave me a rose bush as part of my 40th birthday present which was a long time ago you'll be shocked to hear. I planted it against the fence under some ivy and left it, and in spite of my non- green fingers we had a lot of roses that first year which was also the year I lost my father.
Just a month after my birthday he became ill and spent the last week of his life in a hospice, a few days before he passed as August gave way to September I looked out into the garden at my rose bush, there was one rose left, it was perfect, and knowing my dad loved gardens and flowers I cut the rose wrapped the stem in tinfoil and took it to him in the hospice.
My father was not a demonstrative man which made it hard to speak to him about love or anything like that so I thought the rose would say that for me but fate intervened and when we got there he had slipped into a coma and he passed away a few days later.
I placed the rose at his bedside and told him I had brought him the last rose of summer from my garden.
That was fourteen years ago, the ivy has taken over the fence and I still can't grow any flowers. The rose bush hasn't grown much, it hides under the ivy and every year since my dad died, in the last days of August or beginning of September only one rose blooms on that very small bush and every year when I see it peeking out from under the ivy I know that my father did see the rose at his bedside and knew its meaning and every year he sends one back to me.
Eleven months since I wrote this post I'm adding a postscript. The ivy on the fence has been removed and the fence replaced as it came down in the terrible rain and gales we had. The rose bush was cut back to nothing and I forgot about it. Today I noticed it had grown and bloomed again with the usual one tall rose, but beside it was another much smaller one. This has never happened in fifteen years. The gardeners amongst you will probably say it's not being choked by the ivy anymore and it has more light.
I always say my father sends the rose to me each year and my first thought is he is sending the second one to my new granddaughter, the great granddaughter he never got to see and would have loved immensely.
A romantic notion? Or a symbol from a loved one? I'll never know but I like to think its the latter.
|Not quite in full bloom yet. One for me and one for Abigail.|
|And in bloom.|