I looked out my window this morning and saw this:
And I was devastated. Okay, maybe “devastated” is exaggerating a bit, but I was disappointed. I look forward to this rosebush blooming all year. It always happens right around my birthday… end of May/beginning of June. For a week, sometimes more, I get the pleasure of seeing and smelling hundreds of plump, soft pink roses. It more than makes up for the eyesore that the huge, unruly bush is the rest of the year.
This year, thanks to thunderstorms and heavy winds several days straight, instead of hundreds of roses, hundred of petals lay on the wet ground. But there’s always next year.
This photo was taken on June 4th, 2005, when Maya was around 9 months old.