one of our roses

Roses have started to bloom in the garden. There’s an old rosebush which has been living here for longer than I have. Its roses are pale pink, but this year for the first time the petals are tinged with the faintest gold. Maybe the weather is different this year, or it’s something to do with the compost Bob has been putting on the garden. Either way, the pink-gold roses look unusually nice.

This morning I went out to cut one or two of them for a vase. Reaching into the bush for a particular rose, I pricked my hand on the thorns. When this happens I sometimes think of the old saying, ‘No rose without a thorn’. Unfortunately, since I discovered the extra bit which Schopenhauer added to the saying, I can’t help thinking of that as well. ‘Keine Rose ohne Dornen. Manche Dornen ohne Rosen.’ ‘No rose without a thorn. But many thorns without roses.’