Taking time to smell the roses
This year I fulfilled an ambition: I planted roses on either side of the pathway leading to our front door. Not since I was a child have we had roses in our garden and they powerfully evoke those early days of watching my mother tend her rose beds so expertly.
That was in Armagh. We now live in North Antrim. Would they do well in this somewhat cooler and wetter part of Northern Ireland? So far they have survived. July has already witnessed a number of torrential downpours but if anything raindrops simply add to the beauty of the flowers. The wind has tugged strongly at them, scattering across the grass the petals of each flower as it starts to fade. However, thIs too is a bonus.
We selected the roses for their colour. We also made sure each would have its own fragrance. And sure enough, particularly on days of only gentle breezes - rare enough in these parts - the walk from the gate is beautifully perfumed. So now literally we can take time to smell the roses.
This is certainly what one of my granddaughters did just recently. And it might not do any of us any harm to rediscover the childlike joy of seeing and smelling a rose as if for the first time. Stop, look, listen, smell and feel the wonder.
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