Tag Archives: Roses

181. How could such sweet and wholesome hours be reckoned but with herbs and flowers. ~Andrew Marvel

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Natural object themselves
even when they make no claim to beauty,
excite the feelings, and occupy the imagination.
Nature pleases, attracts, delights,
merely because it’s nature.
~Karl Wilhelm Humboldt

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The most common attractions of the rose are the prettily colored flowers and the sweet to spicy fragrances.  On some roses there are also brightly colored hips that not only decorate bare canes in winter but also provide feasts for overwintering birds.  These hips are the pomaceous fruits of the rose, and they vary in size and shape and color.  Some of the first rosary beads were fashioned out of dried rose hips, and they have been used as well to make jellies, jam, marmalade, teas, soup, and medicinal compounds.  They also played an important role during World War II because they are very rich in Vitamin C.  It seems the people of Great Britain were encouraged to gather wild-grown rose hips to make a syrup for their children since German submarines were sinking commercial ships making it very difficult to import citrus fruits from the tropics.

Looking with expectancy for things that excite, I venture out into my gardens almost daily, weather permitting.  To that end I am seldom disappointed even on drippy days like this one.  Today’s find were some gold-orange-reddiish rose hips, and though they make no claim to great beauty, I was thrilled to see them once again.  After photographing them and beginning this post I began pondering what a difference for the better it might make if I greeted every new day’s living with the same attitude.  What an impact might it have on those around me if I met them filled with joy and expected the best from the encounter.  Once again I see how God’s Eden is not only a great sustainer but also an excellent teacher.

The seed will grow well, the vine will yield its fruit, the ground will produce crops, and the heavens will drop their dew.  ~Zechariah 8:12  ✝

176. For the mind disturbed, the still beauty of dawn is nature’s finest balm. ~Edwin Way Teale

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Slow buds the pink dawn like a rose
from out night’s gray and cloudy sheath;
softly and still it grows and grows,
petal by petal, leaf by leaf.
~Susan Coolidge

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Tired of tossing and turning, I got up out of bed and went in to rock in my favorite chair.  Not wanting to miss the “slow budding” of dawn’s light, however, I first raised the bamboo shade in front of the glass, patio-doors.  After a short wait a faint pinkish glow appeared low on the horizon in the eastward sky, and as the sun inched up and up and up, a ray of golden light poured through an opening centered in the heart of a tall tree framed against it just above a neighboring housetop.  The branches of the tree then took on a hallowed appearance so much so that a bird atop the roof and two squirrels sitting very still in nearby branches looked like parishioners in pews awaiting the high priest.  Later, as the sun climbed high enough for night’s curtain to be lifted completely off earth’s stage, it was apparent that all who’d seen this amazing “salutation of the dawn” were summoned to make ready for the new day.  The first to respond was a flock of birds darting willy nilly across the pastel blue sky in search of food, but beneath them as more and more drops of light appeared like jewels aloft in the bamboo I knew that despite a restless night the time for me to rise had come as well.

If I rise on the wings of dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there Your hand will guide me, Your right hand will hold me fast.  ~Psalm 139:9-10  ✝

171. Nature is to be found in her entirety nowhere more than in her smallest creatures. ~Pliny the Elder (Roman Scholar)

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She sat down in a weed patch, her elbows on her knees ,
and kept her eyes on the small mysterious world of the ground.
In the shade and sun of grass blade forests,
small living things had their metropolis.
~Nancy Price, Website writer and poet

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This writer is describing a kingdom that exists in probably every square foot of ground in any garden, and it is not a singular kingdom.  In and around blossoming things there’s yet another mysterious metropolis.  In it airborne living things yearn to “possess the sweet of every flower that blooms,” and so in that above-ground realm there really is a very simple equation: if there are no flowers there are no pollinators; if there are no pollinators there are no flowers.  One simply doesn’t exist without the other, at least for very long.  The hum or buzz of the pollinating agent and the flower’s blooming go hand in hand.   Together they dance the dance of life and commit their acts of love.  And so it is that different life forms as well as scripture “remind us that there are other voices, other rhythms, other strivings, and other fulfillments…”  How I’d love to hover over the petals of a rose, peer deep into its center, and then dive in to taste its “sweets” like the wasp on this bi-colored Scentimental rose.

God’s voice thunders in marvelous ways; he does great things beyond our understanding.  ~Job 37:5   ✝

169. Everything is mended by the soil. ~Andrew Crofts

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The best things in life are nearest:
Breath in your nostrils,
light in your eyes,
flowers at your feet, duties at your hand,
the path of light just before you.
Then do not grasp at the stars, but do life’s plain,
common work as it comes, certain that daily duties and
daily bread are the sweetest things in life.
~Robert Louis Stevenson

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What a picture perfect day it has been!  After several very coolish, gray days, the sun regained control of the eastern horizon at dawn today, and it has remained the sole ruler of a deeply blue, autumnal sky the rest of the day.  The temperature has been in the 60’s and 70‘s making it this gardener’s idea of a perfect day.  The “breath in my nostrils” has been scented with attar of roses, the “light in my eyes” has brought me wondrous sights, the “flowers at my feet” have fed my hungry soul, the “duties at hand” have energized my aging body, and the “path of light” before me has once again led to God’s amazing throne of Grace.  It just doesn’t get any better than that, at least in my book.

May the light of your soul guide you.
May the light of your soul bless the work that you do
with the secret love and warmth of your heart.
May you see in what you do the beauty of your own soul
.May the sacredness of your work bring healing, light,
and renewal to those who work with you
and to those who see and receive your work.
May your work never weary you.
May it release within you wellsprings of
refreshment, inspiration, and excitement.
May you be present in what you do.
May you never become lost in bland absences.
May the day never burden.
May dawn find you awake and alert,
approaching your new day with
dreams, possibilities, and promises.
May evening find you gracious and fulfilled.
May you go into the night blessed,
sheltered, and protected.
May your soul calm, console, and renew you.
~Author unknown

From the fruit of his lips a man is filled with good things as surely as the work of his hands rewards him.  ~Proverbs 12:14   ✝

167. God gave us memory so that we might have roses in December. ~James M. Barrie

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I arise today
blessed by all things.
~John O’Donohue

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The English poet, William Blake, once penned that all “the daughters of the year shall dance” in autumn and “sing the lusty song of fruit and flowers.”  I think it might be hard to find a much lustier song or livelier a dance than what the beauties above are lending to October’s opus.  As a part of the process of summer’s “slow disrobing” and the “summing up” before year’s end, their ordained and impassioned performances are undeniably spreading a magnificent and long lasting “common feast for all that live.”  From this rich banquet, the berries will remain on winter’s menu for birds who fly not elsewhere for warmer refuge.  The seeds in the lower right corner produced from flowers like the pink and blue morning glories will foster faith and hope for we mortals as they carry the promise of spring through winter’s cold and dark dominion.  The scarlet spots in the throat of the yellow Canna will bleed thoughts of Christ into our awareness as we look forward to celebrating His birth in deep December.  And the scent and sight of the inimitable rose will take its usual place in memory whilst not in bloom.

I will perpetuate Your memory through all generations; therefore the nations will praise You for ever and ever.  ~Psalm 9:6  ✝

166. Another fall, another turned page: there was something of jubilee in that annual autumnal beginning…. ~Wallace Stegner

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The foliage had been losing its freshness through the month of August,
and here and there a yellow leaf showed itself like a first gray hair…
September dressed herself in showy dahlias and
splendid marigolds and starry zinnias.
October, the extravagant sister, ordered an immense amount of
the most gorgeous forest tapestry to make glorious her grand spectacle.
~Edited and adapted excerpt from Oliver Wendell Holmes

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The first leafy sign of autumn appeared on the Dogwood today, and it triggered a flood of “color” musings in my mind.  Chestnut and chocolate!  What’s not to love about a season that clears off summer’s calamities, piles delectable hues back on nature’s palette, and calls for a pot of hot chocolate?  Lemon and lime!  Grasses, flowers, fruits, berries, and even a beastie or two weave fabulous garlands in the sacred temple bound by earth and sky.  Maroon and mahogany!  Chilling winds induce chemical changes in leaves that conjure up magic shows on woody altars in earth’s forests.  Mauve and mulberry!  The leaves on maples, oaks, dogwoods, pears, persimmons, and other trees give birth to colorful, parchment-like jewels that will one day snap off, swirl in little eddies, and play like children upon the ground.  Orange and ochre!  Pumpkins made to squat on porches or bales of hay tickle the fancy of mortal tongues anxiously awaiting fall feasts and winter banquets.  Red and russet!  Roses, asters, and Maximilian sunflowers invoke a breath of spring not stifled by summer’s heat to keep the year’s last child in colorful array.  Sable and sapphire!  Skies often shrouded by gauzy, gray clouds are swept clear by northerly winds as cold fronts advance.  On such days a spectacular brilliance can be seen on the brows of morn followed by daylight hours drenched in deep, dreamy shades of blue.  Sterling and pewter!  Plumed grasses shift and sigh in authorship of haunting, autumnal hymns.  Ah, how lovely are the many colors of autumn and the Holy One who made them!

As long as earth endures, seedtime and harvest (spring and autumn), cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night will never cease.  ~Genesis 8:22  ✝

165. Some praise the Lord for Light, the living spark; I thank God for the Night, the healing dark. ~Robert William Service, “Weary”

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Night, the beloved.
Night, when words fade and things come alive.
When the destructive analysis of day is done,
and all that is truly important becomes whole and sound again.
When man reassembles his fragmentary self
and grows with the calm of a tree.
~Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

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The air was crisp and cool; day’s light had just slipped away.  Wet blades of grass sparkled in a kind of diamond-dusted majesty under the glow of a rising harvest moon.  As if to punctuate my scattered thoughts, tiny aircraft lights glided from time to time through the darkening indigo sky.  When I began glancing around the yard, the images that confronted me seemed to be popping up like photos in a slowly advancing slide show.  The first one I saw was of the red turk’s caps underneath the rose arch, then the white moonflowers on the neighbor’s fence, fattening seed pods under the oak, a Celtic cross, a flying moth, an intermittently  shrouded moon.  The spell was broken only for a short while when the fragrance from my potted herbs temporarily seduced my nose.  Then the slide show started up again with a flash of yellow and white lights, followed by a rustling noise, leafy branches hanging low, a sculpted monk, stone rabbits, and a fleeting little lizard.  Music in the distance floated down the alley, and when I turned to follow the sound, I was startled by ghostly shadows dancing on the shed in the deepening darkness.  However the fear was fleeting and not enough to alleviate my growing sleepiness.  It wasn’t until water tapped noisily in the nearly drained fountain and a pair of feral cats came meowing at my feet that I was jolted out of my reverie.  And it had been such a lovely respite for a weary soul, always is when under the holy hosts of heaven that light the night.

And God said, “Let there be lights in the vault of the sky to separate the day from the night, and let them serve as signs to mark sacred times, and days and year…   ~Genesis 1:14  ✝

164. Is not this a true autumn day? Just the still melancholy that I love — that makes life and nature harmonize. ~George Eliot

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Delicious autumn!
My very soul is wedded to it,
and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth
seeking the successive autumns.
~George Eliot

**I was hoping you could see that the morning glory below, heavy with dew after the rain, was an awesome, pink delight to behold, but the image is too smalll here for you to see its alluring sparkle.

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Northerly winds in the night blew our gray, rain-bearing clouds away, and the day dawned under a fresh, China blue sky.  Layers of dust that had been blowing in on southerly winds for weeks were washed away, sent back to the soil from whence they came.  As a result heaven’s dome along with the landscape looked sparkling clean and pristine.  In the day’s early light growing green things shined greener, new growth pushed up on rose canes, seedlings appeared in soil once parched and cracked by summer’s fiendish assaults.   Wildlife, though always smaller in number in October, flew, crawled, and buzzed with renewed energy and enthusiasm in the aftermath of the recent slow, soaking rains.  And so with a bit of an almost frosty nip in the air, this day evolved into our first quintessential, autumn day.  How, then, on such a day, could the early call to venture out in the yard, camera in hand, have been ignored?  Or how could it have been a surprise that the vignettes I found were so exquisite that all I could muster, with eyes blurred by joyful tears, was praise for the Holy One whose presence amidst the glory was sweetly palpable?

Let them give thanks to the Lord for His unfailing love and his wonderful deeds for mankind.  Let them sacrifice thank offerings and tell of his works with songs of joy.  ~Psalm 107:21-22  ✝

159. Our knowledge of God is not an external deposit of truth…rather, it is an experience of God that comes to us in the use of our inner senses, whether that be through the scriptures and sacraments or through Creation and one another. ~John Philip Newell

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Remember God’s bounty in the year.
String the pearls of His favor.
Hide the dark parts,
except so far as they are breaking out in light!
Give this one day to thanks, to joy, to gratitude!
~Henry Ward Beecher

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Just in case I haven’t declared lately how much I love autumn, let me say it one more time.  My, oh my, oh my, but what stunning “pearls” the Lord gives us to string together in autumn.  The colors in these roses are so absolutely scrumptious that when I came upon them in the yard a couple of days ago, I wanted to go back in the house and immediately start baking something “pumpkiny” or “lemony.”  I imagined a dessert of some kind with cinnamon and/or cloves that when finished would be slathered with butter or icing.  Then, as if she had read my thoughts, my friend Liz cooked something similar to what I imagined for our luncheon yesterday, and what a delicious pumpkin bread-pudding topped with caramel and pecans she made!  It was as delicious for the tongue as these roses were beautiful for the eyes.

Taste and see that the Lord is good; blessed is the one who takes refuge in Him.  ~Psalm 34:8

154. “Just living is not enough,” said the butterfly, “one must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower.” ~Hans Christian Andersen

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Bees sip honey from flowers
and hum their thanks when they leave.
The gaudy butterfly is sure that
the flowers owe thanks to him.
~Rabindranath Tagore

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Could there be a more mesmerizing or glamorous creature than the butterfly?  No matter where I am or what I’m doing, the winged beauties stop me in my tracks.  Envious of their dance and fascinated by the way they feed, I watch in awe as they gracefully float from one flower to another.  On this particular trip to our local Botanic gardens, I was thrilled to get a pretty good shot of a swallowtail in flight.  As you can see, butterflies are beautiful even when their likenesses are blurred.  Butterflies, often described as self-propelled or flying flowers, have long been venerated all over the world.  We see a variety of artistic depictions of them in many cultures, including the 3500-year-old ones on Egyptian hieroglyphs.  They are also the darlings that inspired the images of “butterfly fairies” both in art and as fictional characters in stories.  They have been used as well as symbols of God’s favor, good luck, the human soul, love, and rebirth.  Simply put, they are to the world of insects what the rose is in the world of flowers–incomparably beautiful.

How sweet are Your words (Lord) to my taste, sweeter than honey in my mouth.  ~Psalm 119:103  ✝