A friend bought a house in Portland, Oregon. Last spring he was redoing the yard: all edibles.

“Wait,” I say, “what about the roses? Didn’t you say there are roses?”

“Yes,” he says, “Digging them up. Do you want them?”

“Yes!” I say.

I visit in Portland and drive back with three roses, roots but not much dirt, in a plastic bag. I think two are red. I plant all three in my front yard, with the deer fence. As high is is legal.

And here is the first bloom: an immigrant to Washington, a transplant, another color, a surprise! Lovely!




This is for photrablogger’s Mundane Monday #116. Ok, yeah, it’s Thursday. I am thrown off by four days off, my son visiting all the way from Maryland and the news of the death of an old friend, Monday.

The lower branches of the trees are dead, but are covered with growth anyhow: the hanging beautiful moss. I don’t know how the moss holds on through the dry season. Meanwhile the tree continues upwards, new branches reaching up to the light.

I took this on Mount Zion, two weeks ago.

Lake Street Dive: What I’m doing here.