On a rainy day in February, a bower blooms in my yard that would make Monet envious.
A few years back, Bacon bought all of his girls rose bushes for Valentines Day. This one is mine. Old Blush, an antique rose, buds in fuchsia. As the blossoms open and age, they shade to taffy, then bubblegum, ballet slipper, finally blush. The flowers smell like cotton candy.
She’s been blooming since Christmas. Unusual, even for our mild climate.
CRISPLY SPOKEN 