I’m sure there’s an actual name for these that’s far, FAR more accurate than “vine flowers,” but I don’t know it.
They grow on these vines that cover the back patio.
You do the math.
They open up like this in the evenings. Not super fragrant, but very pretty.
The humming birds love them. So do the ants. I don’t know who’s eating the ants, but I suspect the lizards.
I apologize in advance for the stupid and lame article title.
It’s descriptive. But that’s about all.
There’s a certain “truth in advertising” aspect to it, but since I’m not really advertising, so what?
It’s a very nice white rose. I especially liked the bits of pink around the edges of the petals.
And it was most certainly a Tuesday, although it felt like a Monday, even though I worked Saturday, Sunday, and Monday in what was supposed to be a three-day weekend, but with everyone else back, it felt Monday-ish. Which was less than pleasant.
There’s also a chunk of that “getting old sucks” aches and pains going on at the moment – nothing life threatening and considering what else is going on in the medical world these days, being sore all the time because I threw too much batting practice twenty years ago isn’t much to bitch about. But it still hurts.
So I smelled the roses – they smelled lovely, even if they were white, even it was a Monday-ish-feeling Tuesday. And I heard two new birds in the neighborhood. Something else mind numbingly boring to talk at you about tomorrow, maybe.
I caught this rose a day or two past peak.
The petal edges are curling and tearing, turning brown. The vibrant pinks and reds are fading to white and ochre.
And yet, to me, the faded colors just serve to emphasize the bright colors which remain. The contrast reminds me of the world, living and dying, growing and fading, vibrant and decaying, all simultaneously. Above all, the melancholy of knowing that everything fades with time, tempered by the faith that it will bloom again another day.
Like, I am absolutely SOOOOOOOOO done with April!
This freefall thing sort of sucks. I know who I blame, and it’s not even an individual, but a whole cadre of evil MFers who are destroying the country and the society that I grew up loving and respecting and believing in.
So 2016 sucked, 2017 was bad, 2018 was really bad, 2019 just was a nightmare, and then January was horrible, February was worse, March felt like it was ten years of bad road, and now April…
It’s not you, April, it’s us. Truly. I’m sure you’re a perfectly good month that just happened to get corrupted and infected by a particularly bad case of MAGAts. You’ll get a chance to make up for it next year as we try to rebuild.
In the meantime, your more or less every other day reminder that there is beauty in the world, even if the news doesn’t show it, and that the bees and flowers and everything non-human are doing just fine.
Most of the roses just grow one at time – this one’s a three-fer!
Love this shade of red-orange-something.
It’s always surprising to me that two roses on the same plant can have such different subtle color variations.
Something about the depth of field and composition on this one grabbed my fancy!
Because Mondays are…still Mondays.
Even when it really doesn’t feel like Saturdays and Sundays are a real weekend or time off from the stresses of Mondays through Fridays.
Even when you need to check your watch or your phone or your computer to even figure out what day of the week it is.
So, “happy Monday!”
Have a red, RED rose to take your mind off of it.
They’re all blooming now, many colors, many sizes.
No lizards in sight.
Week Number Four? Five? Five, I think, but it might be four. Didn’t we have this discussion last night? Or was it the night before?
Time is not what it was. I’m thinking of Tom Hanks’ character on that island with the volleyball after being so clock driven and time obsessed while working for FedEx. This might not be quite that extreme. But there are days…
And yet, the flowers don’t care. All they know is the days are longer, warmer, there’s water, there are bees. It’s time.