This is the first John rose of the season. I don't know what the real name is. My mother called it the 7 sister rose because there were 7 tiny roses on each stem. You see them all along the country side here. Growing on fence posts and covering the remains of old houses usually with honeysuckle vines entwined.
I call it John rose because around 1990 our friend John dug it up for me and brought it to the house for me to plant. John died from a horrible raging cancer in the blizzard of 1993 and I have cherished this rose. It is big and sprawling and soon to be covered in hundreds of tiny pink roses. The first one is never very pretty but it is always special because it reminds me of John and his kindness.
As soon as the other blooms appear I will take a picture.
John was big and loud, charming and educated and truly one of the kindest people I have ever known.
I still miss him. He was a bright and shinning star who left this place way too soon, but the people who were lucky enough to know him, will never forget him. That single little rose brought a big smile to my face this morning, I knew it would be a good day.