I pruned the roses yesterday, a little late, but they are finished. Its my role in the family to do the outside stuff, mow the lawn, weed, water, plant and prune the roses. Every year since dad died I have traveled to mom's to take on the task.
They are Dad's roses, so are the grapes except the grapes are too complicated for this dis tractable daughter. I can't seem to remember the intricacies of what is the new growth and what is old, so my mom just hacks away each year.....and.....they actually produce grapes.
Anne's role is to clean, and sew, yup she's still the baby and can't quite get out of the cleaning role. The older one's get to balance the check book, cook, and boss the younger ones around. Little do they know we've got their number and don't really listen to them anyway!! (Not really, well kinda of)
Back to the roses, I love gardening manly because its my connection to my Dad. I can hear him as I make the cuts: "not too short dear", "you're doing great dear", "mix it in well dear". He always ended his sentences to me with "dear", its a sweet reminder.
As I finished the roses, I realized that I was listening to to the sounds of basketball being played somewhere in the neighborhood. I could hear the neighborhood children walking home from Wasatch singing church songs and I thought wow, the neighborhood is young again. They were sweet sounds of children something that had been missing from my old stomping grounds. I love Provo, I love the tree streets......I'll write about that next time!!!
For now the roses are finished!
