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A Rose is a Rose

It was quite a shock to take the dogs through the rose garden and find this fine lady, opened up early and enjoying our mild, warmish spring. I get so wrapped up in what’s happening online or politically or with publishing, I forget that there’s a whole world just outside the side gate.

Forgive the blurring–I was trying to take the picture with two eager dogs strapped to my waist. They wanted their walkies and were not inclined to pause so I could fiddle with the shiny little pocket-brick that holds so much of their human’s attention, like the glowing box on said human’s desk.

Anyway, I never expected the roses to survive. They’re finicky creatures, greedy for attention. But they seem to be doing quite well in the side yard, maybe because all the squirrels I’ve buried there are ghost-cavorting enough to please them.

I wish you a pleasant weekend, dear Reader, full of nice things and relaxation. My own will be spent doing some library maintenance–I meant to put it off until Saturday, but the past couple evenings my resistance broke down because I was already cleaning and organizing, why not just continue and keep the momentum? I’ll probably take a whack at cleaning the rest of my office and getting the printer set up, too.

I’d like to think that eventually I would have done this anyway without *waves hands* all this, but that’s probably untrue. Or maybe I’m just finding silver linings on very, very heavy clouds. Who knows?

In any case, we’re all clinging by teeth and toenails. It helps, in however small a fashion, to know someone’s clinging right next to us.

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