That's crazy talk, isn't it? People and roses don't really meet each other. Really now, isn't that treating roses like they are, well, human?
But after a day in the City of Roses, I'm beginning to think roses just might be at least part human after all. I mean if you were treated with as much respect as these roses are, you'd feel human too.
They are everywhere, the roses. The pampered ones are in the formal rose garden. Here is a picture, but after I took it I thought, why bother. If it was in their nature, the roses would scoff at your efforts to capture their beauty. Instead they stand by silent and divine. If you look closely you will see them smiling as they tolerate your attempts.
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Now look at this.
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What is it? It appears to be a rose cage. Imagine being trapped in there. But it isn't a cage after all. It's a tennis court! And it's surrounded by roses crawling up the fences on all four sides.
How could anyone possibly play tennis in there while the roses shower you with their beauty, completely unaware of what they are doing? You might as well sit this game out because you are going to lose. The roses will win.
In the City of Roses the roses are so abundant they even grow on the freeways. These are the careless roses - they require no pampering at all. The roar of the cars does not bother them. Nor does the exhaust.
I will confess I feel a little bit angry at these roses who grow entirely on their own, flopping themselves wherever they want to and blooming with abandon.
That's because I am jealous. I cannot grow roses. Either the pampered kind or the careless kind.
I tell myself it's because the deer will get them, which is true, but the real reason I can't grow them eludes me. Try as I might, my attempts to grow them always disappoint. Yet there, around the corner in a field, or over there along the freeway, the roses grow as if they need nothing whatsoever except to be allowed to show what they can do.
Every year I hope to do better, so still I keep trying.
How could anyone possibly play tennis in there while the roses shower you with their beauty, completely unaware of what they are doing? You might as well sit this game out because you are going to lose. The roses will win.
In the City of Roses the roses are so abundant they even grow on the freeways. These are the careless roses - they require no pampering at all. The roar of the cars does not bother them. Nor does the exhaust.
I will confess I feel a little bit angry at these roses who grow entirely on their own, flopping themselves wherever they want to and blooming with abandon.
That's because I am jealous. I cannot grow roses. Either the pampered kind or the careless kind.
I tell myself it's because the deer will get them, which is true, but the real reason I can't grow them eludes me. Try as I might, my attempts to grow them always disappoint. Yet there, around the corner in a field, or over there along the freeway, the roses grow as if they need nothing whatsoever except to be allowed to show what they can do.
Every year I hope to do better, so still I keep trying.
Because there are never enough roses.
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