Jim has been putting up a neighbor's heavy crop of hay, a job which has taken him back and forth a few miles along one of the winding secondary roads.
He mentioned that roses were in bloom along a shady stretch. I went along this evening to drive the tractor while Matt and Devin loaded and J. stacked on the wagon.
J. pointed out the roses spilling down the hillside below an abandoned house trailer and remarked that he should have brought clippers.
I was astonished when after loading hay for an hour and bringing it home to the barn, J. suggested we drive back to pick roses!
He reasoned that riding in the car with the A/C on full blast would be a good way to cool off.
Standing at the roadside as dusk crept in I was astonished at the extent of the rose patch.
The briars spread wide at the top of the slope and had clambered across the shallow ditch and into the very edge of the road, rooting new clumps wherever the unrestrained shoots had touched ground.
J. clipped trailing branches, handing them down to me.
Back home I spread them on the table and snipped the best clusters to fill this jug and a smaller one.
Many of the blooms are past their best, but still charming.
The scent is light--a bit like an old-fashioned talcom powder.
I'm wondering about the name of the rose and how long it has rambled unrestrained.
Since there are rooted clumps growing on the verge of the road [which will be mowed by the county crew later in the summer] I'm reasoning that it wouldn't be thievery to
dig up a small plant to grace our dooryard.
This branch has roses on very short stems.
Although the petals will fall in a few hours, it was too pretty to discard, so I placed it atop the sliding doors.
The tiniest buds are exquisite.
I have pressed them in my Bible.