John Rose

Our friend John died during the blizzard of 1991.  He had a rare incurable cancer that killed him almost as quickly as the doctors discovered it.  A few years before he died he heard me mention the wild pink seven sister roses that bloomed around so many old barns and houses where we live.  I loved those roses and wanted my own.  He had some on his farm and within a couple of days I had my rose bush.  It is actually a climber and now it covers a large bank down by our mailbox.  I call it the John rose and this week bloomed.  The roses are tiny sweet smelling jewels of shades of pink.

John was unforgettable, a truly larger than life man with a heart of gold.  I could never forget him, but the rose bush just adds to his memory. Each time I get our mail I think of John and remember his kindness and his gift of the John rose.