My Father’s Roses

One of my childhood memories concerned my father’s rose bushes. My father spent most of his early life on the family farm and when he moved to town, I think roses were his way to stay connected to the earth and nature. Though, I firmly believe that growing corn and wheat in our yard would have been easier than the temperamental rose bush.

He had at least fifty, and he took great care of them so that they produced the most beautiful roses in the neighborhood, if not the town. During this period I was the only child in our household, and he enlisted my help in their care. Now, as an adult, I have come to realize how much I learned about life in the maintenance and care of the rose bush.

One of these lessons I learned is that creating beauty can be downright messy! After years of experimenting, he insisted on only using real cow manure for fertilizer. You read that right: real cow manure! This entailed first collecting the cow piles from the farm pastures, loading them on a truck, driving them to town, and then spreading them ever so carefully around the base of each bush. In the beginning, I was embarrassed and afraid someone would find out that I was associated with this whole process; yet, as I got older, I grew to embrace and think differently about the “rose bush” journey to the farm. It became more of a curious experience than an unwanted chore.

We would often stay a little longer and walk the pastures and look to the bottom of the very cold and clear creeks and the small biological worlds within worlds. The farm also taught me to listen. When I used to spend my summers there as a small child, I was too little and busy playing with my cousins to really hear all the most interesting sounds nature and a working farm offered. I thought I knew how to listen until I focused and respected my surroundings. Later I used this same skill of focus and respect to listen to people. I learned an amazing lesson: you can learn so much if only you really listen.

Every season we had to prune the branches to make room for greater growth and possibilities even though the bushes put up a fight, as evidenced by my many cuts from their thorns. This was often therapeutic and rewarding when the new growth appeared around each cutting. But in the beginning, it took an act of faith to trust that it would happen. I would ask my father for proof and he would just say that by losing something, we would have a greater chance to get something new.

The rose bush seems very independent but it is not one to be left alone to take care of itself: it needed others as we do. My father and I had to do weekly weeding, check for fungus and Japanese beetles, and apply the right amount of water. Although each bush received the same amount of care and love, some fared better than others. It was not unusual for us to replace a few each year while others lasted it seemed forever. Friends are often the same way but there is only so much we know and the rest we come to accept.

Have you ever looked carefully at the rose flower? It is one of the most beautiful creations on earth. It comes in a variety of colors and sizes and the petals form a matrix of unique designs. Early in the morning, I would often witness my father study each bush and in his face I could see him acknowledge that it was worth the efforts. It was like he had a unique relationship with each one.

Later, when my father got older and after my mother died, he couldn’t take care of his creations as well as before and the weeds took over where there was once manure and beauty. The relationship of the rose and my father was quite apparent: where there is interdependence based on love and respect there is a larger possibility of a greater life and beauty.

Although my father and his rose bushes are but a memory, the life lessons I have learned are still with me. The phrase “take time to smell the roses” means a great deal more to me than enjoy life more. It means that we have so much to learn from everything outside and inside of us and we spend so little time seeing the invitations. To that end, I believe that I will travel to Frederick this weekend and place a few roses on my parents’ grave. He would like that and so will I.