Yesterday was cool, windy and sunny. I grabbed, maybe my last opportunity, to hang clothes on the line (I am really going to miss that, my drier is too, it's going to have to work again). After I brought the last load in, I decided to walked around the outside of my house looking for the last of the season flowers. It always saddens my heart to think that I can't just walk out my front door and make a bouquet for my table. I found one rose bush that still had some harvest left on it.
Of all my roses, these are my favorite. My Uncle Dick loved roses. On a walk one Saturday afternoon (with my Aunt Carol and Laurie), he told me that a rose could have the most beautiful flower, but if it didn't have a wonderful smell, it wasn't worth anything. So we spent our whole walk going from yard to yard smelling roses. It was the last time Laurie and I would be able to walk with him, he passed away the next year of cancer. These roses would pass all my Uncle's tests. They have a beautiful color combination and the smell is...breathtaking.
I Lovingly think of that rose bush as "Uncle Dick's Roses"
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