Red, red rose...

I keep discovering new things in the garden - one of the joys of inheriting an established garden.  This afternoon, I spied a rose bush next to the greenhouse.  There were three gorgeous blooms, I had to grab my camera, climb on the stone bench and get up close and personal with the perfection of this rose.

I don't yet know the name of this beauty (tomorrow I'll go diving into the undergrowth and see if there are any name tags:)  And YES, YES, YES... it smells as good as it looks ~ heaven scent!

I found a poem about roses, by the wonderful Mary Oliver...

Roses, Late Summer

by Mary Oliver

What happens

to the leaves after

they turn red and golden and fall 

away?  What happens

to the singing birds

when they can't sing

any longer?  What happens

to their quick wings?

Do you think there is any

personal heaven

for any of us?

Do you think anyone,

the other side of that darkness,

will call to us, meaning us?

Beyond the trees

the foxes keep teaching their children

to live in the valley.

So they never seem to vanish, they are always there

in the blossom of the light

that stands up every morning

in the dark sky.

And over one more set of hills,

along the sea,

the last roses have opened their factories of sweetness

and are giving it back to the world.

If I had another life

I would want to spend it all on some

unstinting happiness.

I would be a fox, or a tree

full of waving branches.

I wouldn't mind being a rose

in a field full of roses.

Fear has not yet occurred to them, nor ambition.

Reason they have not yet thought of.

Neither do they ask how long they must be roses, and then what.

Or any other foolish question.

I love her line "the last roses have opened their factories of sweetness,"... 

I think she must have (and perhaps still does) meditate on the idea "what if I had

another life?"  Walking in,  and observing the natural world around us, I can't help

but notice how uncomplicated plants and animals lives are when compared to living

a human life..., I too can see the appeal of being a tree, or a rose... I would mostly

like to come back as a bird, like an soaring eagle high, or a wild mustang, 

galloping across the plains.

If you "had another life," what would like to spend it as?