Thursday, May 20, 2010

A Rosy Outlook

In between rain showers yesterday, I noticed that the Cecile Brunner rose had burst into bloom.  It sits out in the south yard near the clothesline, protected from the deer by its own chicken wire fence.  Deb and Craig gave me this plant some years back.  It has survived snow and real drought, and has more flowers this year than ever, an example of fortitude in the face of adversity.  The Cecile Brunner is an old, old rose; pale pink, with tiny little buds and mini-flowers grown on long canes.  Once in fashion, the buds were used for corsages for young girls.  Given time, the plant will throw up its canes and form a pink frothy fountain or bouquet.  I had such a plant when I lived in West Sacramento, but what I really remember is the Cecile Brunner from my girlhood in Arcadia.  Vincent Spenser lived in a house behind ours, and would just climb over the fence when he wanted to visit.  There was a huge Cecile Brunner plant against that fence, so big that the canes drooped over and made a rose-covered bower that he and I could sit under, hidden and private...a perfect place to share secrets and plans.  Spense and I were buddies, pals...this was in the early fifties, still an age of innocence, and we were young and innocent, too.  The romance of the setting was enough. 

2 comments:

Kathryn said...

The word-pictures that you have created today are ESPECIALLY delectable...in a nostalgic, fragrant, cozy, romantic, pastoral sort of way. Thanks for transporting us to your south yard and then to another time and place far, far away! (Have you ever stood under the canopy of a big weeping cherry tree??? Magical!)

Mark said...

How could I dare to break the spell of such a nostalgic memory of earlier times. You've prompted pause long enough for me to remember the horse back rides in the spring with my high school sweetheart, stopping to pick her a handful of fresh wildflowers while she praised me for such thoughtfulness. She really knew how to stroke my ego and I still fall for it even today. Thank you Bo! I'll save my weeping cherry tree story and the farmer who chased me away for another day!