I spent some quality time with my roses this weekend. Most people know I’m crazy about yarn. I don’t think most people know that I’m crazy about growing roses too. Not long stem, cutting roses. But old-fashioned rose bushes. The type you find growing wild around old farmsteads. The ones with wicked thorns, tons of multi-petaled blooms and oodles and oodles of scent. Make you pass out in ecstasy scents. I have 7 growing in my back yard. I name them all.
Sid in Bud
There is Sid and Sid Jr. Sid is HUGE! A good 8 feet tall and about 8 feet by 6 feet in area. He’s an Autumn Sunset and he Vicious (hence the name – Sid Vicious. Get it?). Sid Jr. is a miniature version of Sid; he’s only about 1 foot by 1 foot.
Then there is Gladys. She’s an American Beauty and one of the first of my rose collection. I picked her up at Wal-Mart one day just because. She had a number of really rough years; this year she is coming into her own.
Double Knockout in Bloom
Fred and Ethel are a pair of Double Knockouts. Knockout is right when it comes to their blooms!
Then there is the baby rose and the carpet rose; these are the two without first names. The carpet rose grows very low to the ground, about 2 feet tall and covers an area about 4 feet square. He originally had a friend – a yellow carpet rose – but he didn’t make it through the first year. I planted to carpet roses because I really don’t like mowing that part of the yard. He is covered with tiny red roses throughout the summer, but they aren’t as fabulous in the smell department. The baby rose, like Sid Jr. are actually Mom’s. My oldest sister brings her roses quite often rather than cut flowers for things like birthdays, anniversaries and so on. Mom will take them into the garden when the weather gets warm enough and plants them around the patio.
“This is a blog about yarn,” you might be saying to yourself. And I say “this relates to yarn. ” How? you ask. Well, let me explain.
The quality time I spent with my roses involved counting buds (pointless activity because I always lose count then just say “lots”). Those buds, the potential flowers, are like yarn to me. What will they look like? Will they be big or small? Can they possibly smell as good this year as I remember from last year? Will they attract bumble bees and butterflies? Will I pick them and put them in bowls or let them stay on the bush until they make a golden and red carpet in my yard?
A new skein of yarn is the same (except for smell. MOST yarn doesn’t smell – or at least you hope it doesn’t. Unless it smells like nice, clean wool. And maybe I’m unique for smelling my yarn). What will this yarn be? Will it be a sweater? Or a scarf? Will it be big for an adult or small for a baby? Will I keep it or sell it or give it away? Yarn has the potential to be almost anything. Even a rose. Or a garden of flowers.