Peachy Roses

“ The first roses to bloom come in May and our hearts are ready for them .”

C e Hollis

Swirls and twirls of orange and pink set among green leaves, the first summer roses strike your eye. I love the bush we have here on the farm. We bought some long stems at the flower shop. Buying fresh flowers reminds me of the farmer’s market.

We get up early and drive to Muskogee to the civic center that has covered parking. That’s where the farmers’ market sets up. I could just stay there all day perusing the fruits from melons to blueberries and the vegetables carrots, radishes, peppers, tomatoes. I love to walk down the aisles between the tables and see everything. Loaves of sourdough bread, jars of honey, jams and jellies, cucumbers and eggplants, raspberries. It is a feast for the eyes and the soul.

When there are lots of roses blooming I like to cut some for small bouquets in stemware, old jars, small vases, and little glasses. I put them on tables and windowsills. Mama used to say that bouquets of flowers in a dirty house were not a beauty but a disgrace. I beg to differ because my house cannot be messy enough to nix the first roses for me.

Mama used to wait for the first pussy willow. She would cut branches of it and set it in a tall vase in a sunny window. She loved the gray woolly buds. To her it meant spring bustling into summer—winter gone for good and summer up and running.

If I were a hummingbird I would leave the feeders and search for roses to drink from. If I were a butterfly I wouldn’t want to miss out on the fine peachy pink rose bush under my bedroom window. If I were a honeybee I would choose to nestle up inside the satin petals for a sip of nectar and a sweet nap.

Tomatoes are still hard and green on the vines. Squash are blooming. Clover, coneflowers, coreopsis and Queen Anne’s lace are lining the country roads when the first roses bloom and my heart is ready for them.