My stress and anxiety about my impending surgery is getting worse. I saw the dermatologist yesterday, though, and she put together a plan to get my burns healed over by next week. Right now I’m covered in bandages from my jaw to the bottom of my ribs. Since I don’t want to make THAT photo public, I’ll show you pictures of my roses. I took these right before dinner tonight.
When Emily Rose DeHority was very little, I think the summer right before she turned two, she told everyone her name was Emmy Roses. Therefore, she figured that the rose bushes were special just for her.
How could I argue with such logic? Someday soon I need to find and scan a photo of her at that age. I think perhaps she’s the one George most closely resembles.
The rose garden could be really nice if it weren’t so neglected. The soil is great, it gets full Carolina sunshine, and the kids don’t play on that side of the driveway.
The big problem is bugs. I’m not trying to grow them organically, but I forget to spray them as often as they deserve. I usually only think about it when I’m driving backwards out of the driveway, and since I hate being late for things, I don’t take the time right then and there to spray them.
So they tend to all bloom nicely at the beginning of the year. Then the cankerworms and the other nasty bugs eat so many leaves that the poor bushes haven’t got much left to photosynthesize with. Plus I don’t get around to pruning them and all…
But they somehow manage to come back every year, and every year I fully intend to do a little better taking care of them. Something always gets in the way, though… a sick baby, or a torn rotator cuff, or too much time out of town, or cancer or something. Maybe next summer will be boring, uncomplicated and easy, and I’ll have time to take care of my roses….