I choose a new rose in my garden. The bush was planted two weeks ago for me by my son and son-law, who gave up their Sunday to refresh my rose bed.
Three days ago this rose, "Forever and Forever" bloomed. A rose by any other name would smell as sweet? Other names: Dream Come True Showbiz Lady Marmalade What do a rose garden and a horse race have in common? Silly names.
However, a rose is a rose is a rose. Gertrude was so right. Touch, smell, draw, photograph and then just walk out in the morning light and you ask, "Rose, where did you get that red?"
The question is profound. Halts the pace of my walk. Opens deep rivers of thought. That deep bright dark red is like the tiny drop of red that appears on my arm when I prick it to test my blood sugar. The pedals are ripples from a stone thrown so many years before.
Rose, where did you get that red?
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