A Rose Is a Rose. . .

We bought some roses this year, and one of them bloomed for the first time today. The bush had a burst of growth in the last month, due to a lot of rain, a lot of fertilizer -- and a lot of urging from me.

Today I was rewarded with a pale yellow bloom, many petals, the outer ones tinged at the edges with pale pink, and the glimpse of a center of stamens of gold. The stem is a sturdy, healthy green, and the leaves are glossy and perfect. I am in awe.

Those of you who are rose aficionados may recognize my description as being one of that most revered and fabled rose Peace. I won't go into its history, because my memory of it is flawed at best, but the rose alone is an inspiration in its beauty.

Fall is a wonderful time for roses. They seem to be more colorful when they are not pressed to bloom by the warmer temperatures of summer. They are taking their time, asking us to slow down and take a look at the latecomers, taking a mental snapshot of them to help us through the long winter ahead.