This month, I’ve picked a theme of roses. Granted, it’s not the main season for roses, that would be April, in California. They are still nice here in Prescott. I like this challenge, even though I’m doing others, I’ll try not to intermingle them so much so you won’t have to plow through stories to see the flowers.
- Single flowers
- Multiple flowers
- Flower fields
- Tree or bush blossoms
- Autumn leaves
- Spring leaves
- Decorative Cabbage
Bed of Roses
I remember the first night I went down to work in the bed of roses by the parking lot. I thought, “If I can just keep this part of the garden people see first cleared of weeds, it would look so much better.”
I worked about two hours before I admitted defeat to the Johnson Grass and the heat. I also realized that I didn’t have enough hours in a day in a lifetime to maintain even this small bed of roses.
I must have shared my goal at the next Kiwanis meeting because it wasn’t long before the entire club had jumped into my bed of roses. And the bed started to look made. Mission accomplished!
Somehow it grew way beyond my tiny vision. Other groups joined in each one taking a bed of roses. That left a few undesirable beds. I signed on for a different bed farther down the garden across from the tree roses.
This bed of roses was unloved for a couple of reasons. When we first started working on it as a group, the high school kids working with us dug up a dead rose and took it out. The Johnson Grass was over six feet tall, and Linda Hengst never saw the huge hole in the bed until her foot found it. So it was dangerous.
Then, it was a primo location for the homeless to pull in with their cardboard mattress and lie in their personal ensuite- a bed of roses.
It was opposite the favorite spot gathering place for the men and a few females who drank together during the day. But it had a cool inner courtyard, perfect for a gazebo and some concrete benches. My husband said, “It had potential.”
It’s a little embarrassing to say this, but over time, I lost sight of the roses’ potential. It was safe to say that I hated the roses in my chosen and committed bed of roses. They were obnoxious – really they were.
“No rose without a thorn.”– French Proverb
The blooms fell off the day after we weeded, and two days after a weeding session, the luxurious Johnson Grass covered the plants again. You couldn’t reach through the grass to pull it out without getting snagged through your long leather gloves by several close-knit six-inch long thorns plastering every spare area on the stems.
A Bright Spot
Over the months I adopted this bed of roses, an amazing thing happened. Each time I came to work in my bed of roses, the drinkers grabbed up equipment and helped me clean my plot. When I got cancer, and couldn’t work on it for a while, they maintained my bed of roses and the bed across the path from it.
My vision of them did not change, but I made some great friends.