It’s funny the things you don’t really appreciate as a kid. For me, gardening was one of them. My grandma has, for as long as I can remember, had a rose garden. In the winter, it is a barren landscape, but come spring and summer it’s alive with roses of all various colors, each one smelling sweeter than the last.
Until I bought my own house which came with a spacious backyard and two climbing rose bushes, it never occurred to me how much work goes into maintaining a rose garden. I struggle with two bushes — I can’t imagine how she tends to the dozen that she has growing. After a quick weekend visit to see her, there is nothing better than getting to clip a few blooms to take with me back to Portland, their sweet perfume wafting through the car.