February 10, 2016. My dad would be 112 today. He loved roses, so I’m smiling at the synchronicity of posting a rose poem today. Perhaps a birthday gift for Daddy; perhaps a Valentine for all. With gratitude to Mom Kendrick, for the rose bushes.
The poem stems from trimming overgrown rose bushes in New Braunfels, and bringing cuttings back for rooting and eventual planting in our Austin yard. These were planted by Gary’s mom when she moved into that house years back. It’s been about that many years since I had rose bushes, and I’m quite eager to see these flourish. Crossing my fingers! I put nine cuttings into pots with rooting hormone. Surely a few will take root and bloom into future poems.
The collage mixes blooms from November with the February bagged cuttings and potted cuttings. If you look close at the center spray of cuttings, red-orange rose hips will beam back at you.