My roses and I have a very tumultuous relationship. They were planted many many years ago in a very bad location. My front yard is very small, this reality was further accentuated by the rather obtrusive fence that I built. Most of the year these spiny, thorny, aged plants reach out to me in an attempt to snag my legs and scratch my children. They hide their thorns amongst the grass and weeds that I pull from around their trunks. And when I say trunks, I really mean trunks. The main vine of the large rose near the laundry room window has at least a 1 1/2" diameter. Each year I cut this bad boy down, but it bounces back to around 8 feet tall. I cut them all pretty hard this year, and transplanted a few. I thought that surely they would die, but they've returned stronger than ever. Nature's little symbol of Christ. The old and the dead are cut away to allow for new growth and new fruit. Well, this week I'm loving my flowers. Every morning when I head to my car they have greeted me glistening in the first day's sunlight. Today I took my camera and captured their morning greeting.
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