Lemon Sherbet Roses and a Little Moon Love

There are two rose bushes in our garden both the same variety of yellow with a very faint blush of pink on the edges of the outer petals. I adore the sweet lemon sherbet scent of them. I rescued them from a supermarket sale for next to nothing about ten years ago. Shrivelled and thirsty, I did not think they would survive, but now they are doing so well – often flowering twice a year.

We have the wild dog roses too, entwined around the brambles of the hedge, which I think are just as pretty.

I had a lovely experience a few evenings ago while sitting outside. I’d had a bit of a miserable day and I was trying to lift myself out of feeling sorry for myself – again. I tried not to think so much and just look around at the plants and flowers in the fading light. I began to concentrate on opening myself into the world outside, dissolving the illusory separation of my skin and the air around me. So often I close myself off to the outside world as a way of protection, but in this opening I felt a real connection to the world, a friendliness even. I sat quietly and I listened and then, above, directly in front of me, the heavy clouds parted briefly to reveal a gleaming perfect half-moon. It shone so bright in the leaden sky. I knelt down and touched the grass with the palm of my hand, running my fingers through the blades, it sounds silly, but I even felt as though it touched me back.

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