Every time there’s a frost advisory in the forecast I pick all the roses in bloom.  Just in case.   If I didn’t, and I woke
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The roses began to leaf out on the north side of the house, and the wild ones in the woods did the same.  Daylilies and irises sent forth new shoots.  The chickens rejoiced . . . and ate the shoots.  The air felt warm.   It felt like spring.  And then came the snow, as predicted,
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The sweet, heavy fragrance of the early wild rose blossoms can’t cover the nasty odor from Bebe’s most recent skunk encounter. She tried rubbing it
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