There are a few things in our garden that remain as we found them.  Rhododendrons that put on their show in May, a snowball bush, some orange azaleas, and an old pink, climbing rose.  The rose is in a difficult location. It gets dappled sun in the morning and afternoon and is always stretching to get as much of it as it can.  It is not the right plant in the right place.  On top of that, it only blooms once for about 2 weeks, as it is an old climbing  rose, perhaps as old as the house.  Did I mention that its pink? In spite of all this, I love this plant in part because it’s blooms are fleeting.  You must enjoy it thoroughly when it blooms, the scent, the texture, the profusion.

Of course I love plants that bloom persistently, that last a good long while, that behave themselves.  But there is something so very poignant, so very true about a rose that gives its all for one good flush of beauty. Reminding me to enjoy what comes, when it does, for  however long it might.

This somewhat fussy hand blown vase fits these roses perfectly.