Seasons Change

I’ve got two rose bushes I’m terribly attached to, and each has been kind enough to bloom a glorious last-hurrah for me before winter really arrives.

I doubt I could take a picture to do justice to this Tiger Rose, and even if the image were a fair rendition, without the aroma, well, it’s just not the same. (Really, stop scratching your monitor: there are no smells embedded in this post.)

I’ve made a deal with the deer—who are rose chompers of the first order—that if they leave the roses alone while they’re blooming, I’ll cut off the leftovers for their munching pleasure.

That talk (and a healthy dose of Deer Off) has allowed all of us to enjoy the roses’ recent kindness.

The rain has teased me, and soon, there will be more of it. On its heels will come the snow I love, but for now, I’m taking the time to enjoy my roses.

I do wish you could stop and smell them, too.