rose garden

Tending the garden, gathering its blooms

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Yves Piaget, first of the season
For two solid years, I've babied this rose, from bare root plant to blossom. Thorns emerged, and it was prone to bugs and disease. A puny bud emerged at one point, but the stem was too fragile to support its weight. I almost yanked it from the flowerbed, right then and there. But at the last minute, I granted it a stay of execution.

If it doesn't thrive this season, I told myself, I'll replace it with something else. And wouldn't you just know it: The bush burst forth with three gorgeous flowers, earlier this week!

I've heard this in a religious context, and maybe you've encountered it elsewhere. But it occurred to me just this morning that writing memoir is not unlike the blossoming of this beautiful rose. With each chapter I write (revise or write again), the bud begins to flower. New petals reveal themselves–tiny hints of understanding; of honesty, unfurled–until one day the Truth spills forth, releasing with it the sweet, sweet fragrance of Freedom. The shadow on the right side–I try not to see that as a flaw. It represents the Unknowable, which is part of memoir, too.

Friday Five: Growth opportunities

Spring being a tough act to follow, God created June.
~Al Bernstein
1. Turtle-ish writer that I am, I'm celebrating that my getalong is finally catching up to my gumption. (To mix metaphors, "the little engine that could" is finally cresting that hill…) Translated, this means that, aside from the occasional sleuthing trip, I'm spending more time at my writing desk these days. So if you don't see me posting here, you know where to find me. June is a time for growth…CAN I GET A WITNESS? 

2. Between writing sessions, I'm also spending time in my garden. Earlier this spring, I sprinkled special soil amendments around the base of these hydrangeas, in hopes that I could turn the blossoms blue. But hydrangeas have a mind of their own, as you can plainly see.

3. Dainty springtime flowers are slowly giving way to the hardier plants of summer. Fuschias for the hummingbirds, roses for me. Here, a trio of tiny dancers flits across an imaginary stage, tutus flouncing…

4. But sigh, even the hardiest plants fall prey to neglect. Conversely, they suffer from too much attention. You know where this is going, don't you? Hovercraft attentive gardener that I am, I may have ruined my brand new roses. I overwatered them. In a precaffeinated morning haze, I reached for the organic insect/disease control spray. Yikes! I accidentally doused their pretty faces with Spray 'n Wash. And lo, my long-suffering plants are showing signs of shock. They're not blossoming much, and the fringed edges of the (yellowed) leaves are scorched. *Sob* I'm too embarrassed to post pictures…. 

5. Oh, but wait 'til you here this! A package arrived on my doorstep earlier this week. Inside…whoa. A gadget-savvy, very dear friend gave me a super-wazoo camera! Such a generous and thoughtful gesture; I'm still wide-eyed with amazement. It's got all kinds of fancy-pants features; still, it's light and nimble, which means I can fling onto the seat of my roadster, can sling around my neck when I'm gardening or hiking. Given a little (lot of) practice, it'll take me way beyond the limitations of my trusty little point-and-shoot, so yay! Another opportunity to learn and grow! Extra bonus: In losing myself behind the camera lens, I oftentimes find inspiration for my writing.  

Here's to June, a month for change and growth. However that manifests itself for me, I'm ready.

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Thankful Thursday: Something of a miracle

In late January, this rosebush was a tangled mess of roots & twigs, nothing more.

I amended the soil, added water and compost tea. I whispered prayers as I weeded, released an entire carton of ladybugs over the rosebed when an aphid infestation hit. And ealier this morning, Pope John Paul II made his grand debut in my garden!

Bird by bird, rosebud by rosebud…this is how miracles reveal themselves, I've finally realized. 

I'll show you more blossoms at some point (ha, did you harbor any doubts?), but it seemed appropriate to feature this one on Thankful Thursday.

ETA: Pope John Paul II in full bloom, just in time for Mother's Day! Pure white petals, strong citrus fragrance…a slice of Heaven, here on earth!

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Thankful Thursday: A rose by any name…


Pope John Paul II hybrid tea rose, via Jackson & Perkins
The folks at Jackson & Perkins just informed me that this year's most sought-after rose, Pope John Paul II,* is on the PopeMobile UPS truck, wending his way to my house! I can't begin to tell you how happy this makes me.

For much of my childhood, I was shamed into feeling I was less than. Indulgences like this didn't come my way very often. Maybe that's why the smallest things–the whispered kindness, the faintest glimmer of hope, the tiniest birds and blossoms–are among my greatest joys.

Before too long, I'll be gathering (and giving away) blooms from my refurbished rose garden. I'll inhale their delightful fragrances in gratitude, and do my best to exhale any thoughts that I'm not worthy.

Catalog copy: This elegant rose is the showpiece of the Vatican private garden, and now can be grown in yours as well! Among the finest white roses ever, it produces pure, luminous white, lavishly petaled blossoms with a delightful fresh citrus fragrance. This exceptional new Hybrid Tea has received top ratings for its powerful scent, vigorous growth, superior disease resistance, and perfect bloom form. 10% of net sales donated to the poor of sub-Saharan Africa.