This is the time of year for them. We had a sizable rose bush by our back porch that always bloomed around the beginning of June. As my sister was born June 1st, she always called them her birthday roses.
PS Is that a particular type of rose that gives such a variety of color?
Nature's first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf's a flower, But only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf, So Eden sank to grief. So dawn goes down to day, Nothing gold can stay. --Robert Frost
On my wedding day, I did not carry a traditional bouquet. What I did carry was a long stemmed collection of Fire and Ice roses and Calla lilies (three riotous stems of each, as I recall). Beautiful, perfect, and I still think their metaphor is marvelous and sticky, just for starters, to this very day.
The roses pictured here at Althouse on Saturday do not depict the exact variety of rose I carried that day. But one of the pictures presented in the series of posts here is reminiscent enough to make me smile, and remember.
Perhaps I'm more attuned to all of that, and therefore perhaps projecting, because my son turned 10 on Saturday. Thoughts do tend to turn and bend around landmarks, after all. Don't they?
Wonderful shot. I have been trying to take pictures of flowers this spring with minimal success. Would you mind elaborating on some of your technique? What equipment?
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10 comments:
Ahh!
This is the time of year for them. We had a sizable rose bush by our back porch that always bloomed around the beginning of June. As my sister was born June 1st, she always called them her birthday roses.
PS Is that a particular type of rose that gives such a variety of color?
Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower,
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf,
So Eden sank to grief.
So dawn goes down to day,
Nothing gold can stay.
--Robert Frost
The sad truth is that roses get overrun with bugs right about now. Take as many pictures as you can, Althouse.
On my wedding day, I did not carry a traditional bouquet. What I did carry was a long stemmed collection of Fire and Ice roses and Calla lilies (three riotous stems of each, as I recall). Beautiful, perfect, and I still think their metaphor is marvelous and sticky, just for starters, to this very day.
The roses pictured here at Althouse on Saturday do not depict the exact variety of rose I carried that day. But one of the pictures presented in the series of posts here is reminiscent enough to make me smile, and remember.
Perhaps I'm more attuned to all of that, and therefore perhaps projecting, because my son turned 10 on Saturday. Thoughts do tend to turn and bend around landmarks, after all. Don't they?
The less beautiful side of nature:
I just saw a coyote dump a dead raccoon in my back yard and run away.
Rose before it puts its makeup on.
Damn, that's pretty fucking amazing.
Good for the head, too. Thanks.
I'ma make it into a screensaver and see if it cheers me up. It's worked so far.
Wonderful shot. I have been trying to take pictures of flowers this spring with minimal success. Would you mind elaborating on some of your technique? What equipment?
Derek
What does this mean, in the language of flowers?
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