I've always had a fond relationship with this summer flower - some might say my career was my destiny!
Where to begin? Why not with memories! It was my Dad who gave me my first flowers - pink sweetheart roses. I was a kindergartener in hospital with tonsillitis. A few years later we had a house by lake Ontario with rambling roses in the garden. I couldn't get enough of their scent; well worth a thorn or two in small bare feet! Once when I was in my teens on a language exchange, I plucked a rose from someone else's garden in a small Quebec town. The French child who caught me take it warned "regardez les épines". I think of her often while stripping thorns at work.
I could teach you about roses, rose gardens or a favourite word "rosarian", someone who cultivates roses. But other blogs do that better! I like to read Floret Flowers, and Toronto's own Royal Botanical Gardens. Or I could tell you about my favourite rose perfume: Portrait of a Lady, by Frederic Malle. It's an exuberant dose of Turkish rose - 400 flowers per vial, no less! I could write about the industrial rose production that gives us our flowers for sale. But that would take us down a very different garden path.
Instead I'll leave you to your own memories and associations. What's your rose story?
