My mom loved her roses, but never had the luxury of time to focus on them as I do: composting, mulching, amending, and pruning. My roses continue to be my babies that require my constant attention and care--especially now that my boys are becoming teens and seem to be more interested in being with their friends than me. Imagine? My mother's practical sensibility probably would not understand the huge amount of time I devote to my garden, as she worked and couldn’t afford the time to linger in our garden.
Her roses' blooms were incredible in their beauty, form, and fragrance despite the fact that she barely even had time to water them. She and my dad were devoted partners consumed with raising my brother and me, and providing for us with their antique business. She loved her roses and we always had a vase of them on our table throughout their season. Although her blooms were her children of neglect they just grew simply and abundantly in their natural state. Their beauty continues in my garden, long after my mother passed 12 years ago and my dad brought them up to plant in my garden from the hot Southern Cal climate.
It has been over 13 years since the relocation of my mother's roses to the cool damp Bay Area and they continue to thrive. Her stunning blooms continue to remind me of the love she had for them each May--especially on their stunning first bloom. In their fragrance and beauty they continue to carry her spirit and love-- and are the greatest gift for me each Mother’s Day --as I feel her spirit with me.
Happy Mother’s Day!