Blooming along with the irises this week is a dear favorite, a fragrant, old-fashioned rose. An almost too-late pruning has reduced the number of buds this year. This type of rose blooms once in the spring, with only an occasional flower appearing in the fall.
This is the rose of my childhood, always blooming in my hometown at Mother’s Day in the yards of my mother, my grandmother, and my mother’s older cousin. My mother’s cousin was a sweet and funny woman who became my garden mentor. She passed along a section of her rose for my very first garden, where it thrived year after year on near-total neglect.
When I moved to this present garden, the rose moved too. As coincidences happen, the day of this lady’s death, at age 96 or so, occurred on the day of the move. The rose, as well as other pass-along plants she shared with me, today hold lovely memories of a special relationship built on kinship and gardening.