A Rose By Any Other Name ...

My husband says I should start a garden blog, but like I wrote in my previous entry, I don't love it for it's own sake. I love beauty. If I have to get dirty to make beauty, I suppose I'll get dirty. He's the one who loves gardening for gardening's sake, but he's not the one to write about it in an online journal, or any journal for that matter.

But if there's ever a time to blog about gardening, it's during the early part of the season when the plants are young and about to explode with color, and when the wild roses are in bloom.

When we bought the property where we live now, the creek bottom behind our house was a wild, overgrown mess. We cut through the tangle for months, deciding what was worth keeping and what had to go to the bonfire. In the process we came across a treasure: wild rose bushes tucked under the trees. They're in full bloom right now, and when the south wind is blowing, I can smell them an acre away. I wish I could photograph the scent for you, but these pics will have to suffice:

The larger of our rose bushes, just at sunset. There's an elm tree for perspective. That's a very large tree. The rose bush stands well over my head.













A cascade of roses. (A bit overexposed, sorry about that. Messing with the camera settings again.)














A cluster of roses. Can't you just smell them?