A couple of people I know got married some years ago. It was an ill-fated marriage; they really had
very little in common, outside the bedroom, if you know what I mean. Their battles were long and makeup sex was
strong, but after a few years it wore off, or rather on. After many attempts at attrition, there was
just too much to forgive. One day while
they were busy ripping and tearing their lives apart, I happened to stop
by. As I was a friend to both of them,
this was really an awkward moment, but too late, I was already there! As I walked around the property with her, (as
she needed to vent,) I made small talk of the plants and flowers. I inquired as to the species of an ugly
little lump of a stump in this small wooden container. It was a rose bush she insisted. With which he had attempted favor by
dragging it into their lives at some point.
It was an ugly little stump; it took some convincing for me to believe
it was even a rose at all. She loudly
persisted that I should “have it, take it, do something with it”; she sure as
hell didn’t want the piece of crap!
Reluctantly I accepted the “gift”.
It looked dead, like a scrap of driftwood. I threw it in my car and made my escape as
elegantly as possible.
A few days later I came across the “scrappling” in my
car. I dragged it out, tugged gently at
the stump and decided that it may have life in the root ball after all. Who knows what a good root ball can produce! I took it over to my potting bench and poked
around the soil a little, put a handful of fresh mulch on top and sank a
fertilizer stick into the deepest part of the little rotting container. It was evident that if it lived, I would have
to get a new container for it soon. I
found it a comfortable place to reside and figured I’d give it a shot.
Sure enough, just a few weeks later I noticed some
shoots! I delighted in its first
production of just one little rose. But
it was clearly weak and it soon succumbed to a terrible round of nasty little
critters that stripped its pathetic little stems to scrawny toothpicks. But after seeing that first rose I knew I
could bring it back around. I went and
got it a nice big new container, a bag of the best stuff around and gave it a
place of distinction on my front porch.
The following season, I was ecstatic to get enough
blossoms as to glean comments from passersby.
Then once again, I had a hell of a bout with the critters. I was reluctant to use harsh chemicals
because I felt she was a little delicate.
I pampered her and did what I could with teas and concoctions. This cycle would play itself out for a couple
of more years.
Then one year, just as she was beginning to put out some
really promising blooms, again the damn critters began to munch, Oh! I can’t believe this! The poor thing has been trying so hard. It looked so sickly; I moved it away from the
front of the porch to the back.
When I got up the next day there was a huge spider web
covering most of what was left of leaves and stems. I figured what the hell, let him live there;
maybe he can grow fat on some critters!
Sure enough, several days later I noticed that the
progression of the critters had ceased.
In fact there was some evidence of new growth. Oh my God!
That spider really did eat the critters!
Well, I was so astonished I tried to tell some people about it and I
think they think I’m crazy. You Think?
Over the next couple of years, despite some amateur
clipping accidents and several more bouts between critters, I have ended up
with what appears to be a small, double trunk, mini “tree” of roses. This year my spider moved in early, how I
love this guy, not another critter in sight!
I played with the stems and crossed them over each other and secured
them in the middle. They look really
cool like that. The blooms are setting
for the second time this year, and there is going to be even more this time
around.
My friend stopped by the other day; it’s been years since
she came around. As we strolled around
my yard she proclaimed about what a beautiful rose that was! I proudly informed her it was the same one
she had given me. Oh! No way, this was her rose? I bristled at the words rolling off of her
tongue. Her rose? NO, this is my rose! But, being civil, I refrained from correcting
her and let her wallow in her own self-glorification and lament about how she
should not have given away such a beautiful rose. Her comment on how she had a spot that would
be perfect for it at her new home, rolled off me like water on a duck. I wasn't going to go there, and neither was
my rose!
It wouldn't matter to tell her that it would not even be
in existence any longer had it been left in her care, nor that it would still
not probably survive the future. She can
beat her chest all she wants because the truth is; I know that I brought
this plant to life. Yes, the root may
have belonged to her, but she discarded and discounted its value. Now that it is plain to see it’s potential
she wishes to bask in its glory! All of
that doesn't really matter, she can’t have it back, and it still lives at my
house. I’m still the one that will run
out and brush away the first snow and then tie and cover the stems to protect
it. I will be the one to carefully trim
it and feed it to help it “spring” to life next season. I’m the one that sees it grow and delights in
the changes. I’m the one that basks in
its glorious blooms! Ultimately, this is
my reward; because you see, it really is my rose!
