But the light shower, coming as it did just before the sun broke through, had the promise of rainbow written all over it. It was a promise never kept. But promises come in other forms.
In the morning I happened to walk about the yard and came upon Mom's Abraham, Lincoln rose, now in full bloom and looking like a red beacon beside the garage. It was startling to come upon it. But up close, glistening with rain drops on its petals, it was breathtaking.
While roses are lots of work, it is a bloom such as this that makes the work worthwhile. It is not even the usual circular center but stretched in the horizontal direction. It is a special sight.
The past few days I've moved more hosta to the north side of the garage, making it a bed with a single type of plant. I've done the same with the north side of the house, spreading out the ferns to take the place of two hostas which I divided and moved. And to the west of the garage it is almost entirely roses. Rather than a mixture, Mom prefers a single theme. We have the room to do this and so we did.
While variety has its place - it is clearly a spice of life - so, too, do single themes have a loving character. When I want the cool, greenness of ferns, I'll walk here. When I want the hint of purple blooms held high above broad leaves, I'll walk here. When I want shocking color, I'll walk here.
