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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Roses, the Beauty and the Blood By Curtis Johnson Nearly four years ago, we sold our home where we had lived for nearly fifteens years. That was long enough to grow a nice garden of all kinds of flowers, including roses. Unfortunately, I was saddened that we could not uproot and take them along with us. So much work had gone into caring for them, and of course, I never had to buy roses. I must say that my wife had collected a number of different types of roses, and I was very dutiful at displaying such beautiful roses of all colors throughout our home. These colorful roses, large and small, graced both the front and back of our home. There were many years that flowers were the last item of beauty that I noticed. But that all changed when my life slowed down, as I entered my retirement years. There was one item of note that my wife apparently knew, but such knowledge, though pleasantly, took me by surprise. I did not know there were thorn less roses. The down side of the roses I had always known was that God seemed to have built a defensive barrier on the rose bush which said, “Don’t rush when you pick me; take time to discover and explore the essence of me”. The thorns never would allow me to take the roses for granted. It seems I can never enter and exit the “Rose Domain” without a gentle bleed. Yes, we have new roses at our new abode; but we have none of the thorn less variety. Still, any kind of rose is my favorite flower; even though they often make me bleed. Cj12222015 fb12262915
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