Undeniably, my very favorite roses, ever, are the old fashioned purple ones that came from my Grandma's sideyard and have grown beyond belief in my mother's garden. This is the picture I took from the upstairs "doghouse" (the name of the little sun room/hangout over the new garage is another story) at my mom and dad's. That bunch of rose bushes is like this every summer, so full and luscious and sweet-scented. I wish I knew how to make you an online scratch 'n sniff photo so you could smell them, too.
Today, we are going to the cemetery where my mom's parents are buried, and we are taking flowers that Grandma and Katie just picked. There are irises galore blooming right now, and I imagine they also picked some of these roses.
I've got stories about my grandparents, stories about my mom taking us down the backroads where she grew up (not the mountains, but most definitely the boonies), stories about my cousins and uncles and aunts. . . but right now I must get my clothes on or I'll be making the ride in my pajamas! Oh, and I would rather get caught wearing my p.j.'s than miss out on this ride and all the memories that will be talked about today!