My Very Own Rose

My Very Own Rose
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This week my lavender plants were a riot of blooms. I have one in my front yard that has grown so much, it will soon require its own area code. Despite the heat and overbearing humidity, I trekked my sons out with me, armed with a gathering basket and clippers. As I trimmed the lavender, explaining how I would hang it from the beams in our kitchen to dry, I let them smell the flowers, and stow them in the basket for me. We all agreed that the scent of lavender in bloom is just about as close to heaven as one can get.
Prior to heading into the house, I noticed our roses were also out in full force, so off we headed to gather flowers for the dinner table. Now, before you become too impressed, I must confess I do not have my sister's talent for nurturing plants. I am convinced the reason for the rose's success is that they are some disease and insect resistant hybrid. In the process of creating such a hardy flower, however, the scent of this rose was lost. They are firecracker red, but the roses have no scent at all. My eldest son, however, explained that the reason I could not enjoy the scent of theses roses was that my technique was wrong. He suggested I "smell the air first, then smell the rose." From the expression of utter joy on his face, I almost believed he could find a scent.

I gathered what we needed for the table, and then snipped a single rose for each child. I explained that I had single-bud vases for each, and they may keep their flower on their bureaus. My youngest son acted as if I had given him the most precious gift possible. "My very own rose in my very own vase!" he exclaimed over and over.

I didn't drain my checkbook for a day at an amusement park, but I gave my children a wonderful memory of rich summer scents, special treasures, and an appreciation of nature. What gift did I receive from my children? The ability to see this moment for what it was...pure magic. I didn't care that my hair had frizzed seven times its normal size from the humidity. It didn't matter that I don't have the most astonishing gardens in our neighborhood. For that minute, we were all able to "be" in the moment, to enjoy where we were and appreciate what we have.

If only my eyes could always be so innocent and unjaded.

Copyright 2000

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About The Author

Catie Hayes is founder/editor of, a community of support, spirituality, growth and empowerment for women. She is a freelance writer, the single homeschooling mom of two, and an avid fan of laughter, spontaneous dancing, cats and chocolate (not necessarily in that order).

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