A Love That Lasts Through The Ages....

  Just before dawn, I awoke and could not return to sleep.  So, there was nothing else to do except hop out of bed and make coffee!  There is nothing like a good cup of coffee at the break of day when no one else is awake.  It was just me and the world sitting on the back step.  Not a bad way to start the day.  From there, I headed to the garden to plant two more rows of green beans.  Hopefully, the squirrel will refrain from dining upon the seeds this time. 

  While there, I had a perfect view of the east arbor of the rose garden.  Just a few weeks back, this arbor was snow white with the blooms of the Cherokee rose.  This week, the first blooms of "Grandmother's rose" are starting to open.  Grandmother's rose is what I grew up calling this particular rose.  In reality, it is named "New Dawn".  The blooms are the palest pink and are a good five to six inches in diameter when fully opened.  This is one of the old type garden roses that were found in just about every cottage garden of our grandparent's and great-grandparent's homes.  The rose rambles about arbors and fence lines and is usually covered with hundreds of blooms.

  The name "Grandmother's rose" has nothing to do with when the rose was prominent but everything to do with Grandmother.  My grandfather had the perfect yard.  Nary a weed could be found in his gardens and, at any given time, blooms of some sort could be found.  He worked tirelessly to keep his place pristine.  It was a sight to behold but he did not take credit for the beauty.  "These are Grandmother's gardens!" he would proudly proclaim.  Now let me tell you a little secret here.  Grandmother never planted a single seed in that garden!  Nor did she weed, trim, fertilize or water.  Her "yardwork" consisted of putting on her pretty gloves, toting her large flat basket and picking a few blooms for a vase that always stayed on the dining room table.  That was it.  The fact was that theirs was a true love and Granddaddy did little things to show his love for Grandmother.  He would bring her a single daisy from the lane or maybe a pretty pebble he found in the creek.  She cherished each and made him feel so appreciated for each tiny act.  The rose was one of the many little ways that he showed his love.  He worked hard to help that rose bush bloom to its fullest and when the very first bud opened, he would take Grandmother by the hand and lead her out to the garden.  There, he would tell her to close her eyes and he would take her to the large trellis where the rose grew.  Then, he proudly would ask her to open her eyes!  She would always squeal with delight and tell him that it was the prettiest that the rose has ever been. Hence, this is Grandmother's rose...always was...always will be as long as it is in my garden.  It is a tribute to their love.

  It is things like this that can make the day perfect.  After working in the garden and then finding Grandmother's rose, I knew the rest of the day would be grand.  My grandparents played a huge part in my early years and even the tiniest memory brings a smile.  Grandmother's rose!