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Sunday, July 5, 2020

Inspired by . . . Life thru My Lens Revisited: Vol. II



"They don't smell."

It's true. The beautiful roses my husband buys for me from the local grocery store don't smell. Nor do they last for more than a few days. I enjoy their fleeting beauty and his thoughtfulness but long for something more. Several years ago we bought "knock-out roses" (found in nearly every landscaped area of South Texas) for our front flower beds. They don't smell either, my husband recently reminded me. Lamenting, "Why don't the roses smell anymore?"

I assured him that they do, you just have to smell the right roses. Soon after this exchange, I scheduled a road-trip to the Antique Rose Emporium near Brenham, Texas. The purpose was three-fold:
  • to prove that roses smell, when you smell the right rose
  • to celebrate my and my mother's June birthdays, and
  • to enjoy a safe activity away from home!


I have always loved roses. Iris' tickle my fancy and peonies take my breath away, but roses... roses speak to my soul.

I had always wondered about this affinity I had for roses which seemed to me deeper than my love for flowers in general. As Mom and I strolled through the gardens she reminded me of something that I had altogether forgotten: Every year on my birthday, my Nana would cut for me, off some wild or cultivated bush, the number of rose blooms that matched my age. 



I have a random memory of an untamed, sprawling wild rose bush at her apartment in Newbury, but no real memory of these delightful gifts she gave me each year. I wonder why?

I like to think that it is because her act of love and the roses became so much a part of who I am that my mind no longer separates them into memories.



Too romantic? Maybe. But isn't that was roses are all about?

After all, romance is about much more than the feelings between a man and a woman. It's about life, this wonder-filled world! It's about pageantry and heroic and marvelous deeds! It's what draws us into the story, to our story, and, ultimately, to His story.

It's about love in its purest form.

The slow, often painful, unfolding of our hearts to give,

and receive,

grace.



I'll leave you here. But I encourage you to keep scrolling for more views of these beautiful gardens.

Shalom,





























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If you read something here that inspired you, I’d love to hear about it. Please know I appreciate every comment! Thanks so much for stopping by! Blessings, June