A Rose

I've been fighting a cold all week (and it was finally diagnosed as strep yesterday when I dragged myself into the doctor's office) and have been feeling less than energetic lately, but I did manage to muster up enough strength to haul out the hose to water the roses the other night.  I was watering Christopher's rose bush, newly planted this summer when I got tired of all the faded colors of the annuals that had been growing there and in a fit of gardening tidying up, I ripped them all up and replaced them with a sprawling yellow rose bush that I found in the half price aisle of our local nursery. It actually really looks like it should've been there all along, adding a nice cohesiveness to the tiny plot of land by the patio and the magnolia tree. The blossoms smell delicious and it's thriving nicely. 

As I was standing in front of Christopher's roses, a rogue beam of sunlight tiptoed across the patio and crawled up one of the flowers, lighting it up and making it almost transparent. The petals glowed in the day's last light, reminding me that the sun is going down earlier, but leaving behind light that is richer and lonelier, reminding us all that winter is coming sooner rather than later. 

I finished up my watering in the dark and went to bed soon after.