My Rose Bush
Hey, good to see you again. Sit back, kick your shoes off and enjoy the story.
It was a beautiful, azure blue sky that smiled down on me as I walked out of the gardening store with my potted rose bush. I was tired of winter, now that Xmas had come and gone. I was looking forward to spring and although the sky was blue, the temperatures were still not very inviting. I pulled the heavy wrapping paper protectively around the bush, shielding it from the wind that whipped my hair into my eyes as I made my way back to the car. The day was clear, crisp and very cold. I was going to have to wait a bit for it to get warm again.
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But I didn’t care. I had bought myself a potted rose bush that I was going to put in my winter garden. I was going to have spring, one way or the other. I smiled to myself, pleased at my cleverness.
When I got home, I went straight into the winter garden and proudly unwrapped the bush. It wasn’t very large, but it was covered with lovely, salmon colored roses. It would look wonderful next to the washed out green colors in the couch. I would repot it into one of those nice terra cotta pots I had standing around in the basement, I had decided. That would give everything an Italian sort of a look, I thought, or at least a warm sort of a look.
I ran downstairs and chose a pot, ignoring the gardening gloves laying next to it. I was, after all, only repotting one little rose bush. No need to get all the gardening equipment out. I grabbed a small bag of soil and ran back up, excited to get the bush into its new pot. This was going to be fun.
I went through the kitchen with my pot and my soil and smiled happily at my teenage son who was busy surveying the contents of the refrigerator, looking, I suppose, for the perfect snack. He didn’t really notice me, but then, he never really does.
After filling the terra cotta pot with a little bit of soil, I reached over to work the rose bush out of its old pot. ‘Ow!’ I had grabbed the bush without thinking and 5 or 6 thorns had rammed themselves into my hand. ‘Ouch, damn it! That really hurt.’
Dropping the bush rather rudely, I spilled dirt all over the floor, and holding my hand like a wounded soldier, I ran into the kitchen to hold it under cold water. Several of the thorns had broken off and were sticking out of my flesh like nasty little daggers.
‘Owww’, I wailed again. My son turned from the fridge, took one earphone out and looked at me; I was obviously bothering his reverie. ‘I bought a new rose bush and it’s full of thorns’, I cried. ‘I should have known. Rose bushes always have thorns.’
Alexander sighed, ‘Naturally. And thorn bushes always have roses.’ And with that he turned back to the refrigerator, took out a liter of soy milk, popped his earphone back in and walked out of the kitchen.
There I was wailing about my rose bush having thorns, when in reality, I should be happy that my thorn bush had roses.
Think about that the next time something goes wrong for you. It’ll put things in a new perspective, and it’s often that new perspective that’ll help you see the roses again, and not just the thorns.
Happy repotting,
Lisa
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Isn’t it the truth? We tend to see the roses and forget they are protected from bruising by those aggressive thorns. I love the photo. I have a rose bush that very color in my front garden and it too is covered in thorns.
Linda C Smith´s last blog ..Let’s make Courtesy the Hallmark in Business for 2010
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Lisa Reply:
January 8th, 2010 at 11:39
That’s right. The thorns protect the beauty of the roses. I guess pain can have several purposes, can’t it? Thanks for your insight.
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Perspective sure is a tricky thing. It’s so easy to look at the negative side of things, or what we lack, or what hurts us. Instead we should realize that what hurts us is often what gives weight to the beauty around us.
Michelle´s last blog ..Philosophical Musings
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Lisa Reply:
January 8th, 2010 at 11:38
That’s right. There are always at least two sides and allowing for more than one perspective gives us a chance to see and understand more than we perhaps do at first glance. Everything that hurts us also gives us the chance to develop, learn and grow – even if it is thorns like daggers biting into our flesh (sounded grisly, didn’t it). Every single thorn is somehow connected to a rose, sometimes we have to be creative in looking for it.
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Lisa, I totally love this.
I have been dealing with the most amazing thorn bush. It’s so thorny that I started not caring it has roses. So I went to bed and made a list of the roses. They weren’t all the roses I would have chosen, but hey, it could have been just a bloody thorn bush. Here is one of the roses I would not have picked, but has ended up with humorous consequences: I got into my car yesterday…and I missed. The lower 2/3rds of my body made it into the car. My eye however, smacked into the door jamb. I hit my brow bone right on the eyebrow. (yes, I swore a blue streak. OW.) One black eye, coming right up, with a side of “I’m a moron.” It’s a weird black eye. It’s above, not below my eye. Next morning, I go to cover it up with make up. It’s this sort of blue/grey shade. I dig around in my makeup. Old compact with blue/grey eye shadow. There’s the rose! I only had to do *half* my make up: one eye. The other eye was already done. A little mascara and my make up time was cut in half. They matched! Now I have to see if I have any green left for later in the week…
Jane´s last blog ..Hello. You Have Reached…
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Lisa Reply:
January 8th, 2010 at 11:31
Wonderful rose. You’re right – there always is one, even if it is synthetic. :-)
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I think I first came across your website via a link on Twitter.. I love the way you write and I am going to subscribe to read more whenever I can. Oh yeah, are you on Twitter yet?
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Lisa Reply:
January 27th, 2010 at 6:46
Yes, my twitter account is visible on the left side of the blog. Thanks for commenting.
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Wicked post, I totally agree. How long have you been blogging for now, I really like the design of your site. Cheers, Dione Berliner
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