Actually, this rose is NOT in my garden, it is in the Parnell Rose Garden, in Auckland. I love the phrase though as it is the title of one of my daughter’s favourite books books when she was small, by Anita and Arnold Lobel. (I think that’s their names, too late to look them up now…) It’s a clever little bit of growing repetition, beautifully illustrated. We still have the hard cover – waiting for another generation.
In the meantime, I was rather mesmerised by this passionate burst of a bloom. The roses were late this year, won’t be in their full splendour for another week or two… Fortunately this one had something to say.
And after a few days of missing out on my NaNoWriMo due to heavy work load, I was able to make up for lost words…
Titirangi Storyteller 
Those are my favorite kind of roses. My great grandmother had bushes of a similar color all over the front of her house. I can still remember the scent.
LikeLike
I used to grow fabulous roses back in Rochester, NY… here… I don’t know, I never adjusted to the 12 month growing season… they have a 3-4 year life span for me here and the last half of that is fairly sad. I miss the early morning garden walks, inhaling it all…
LikeLike
So beautiful. I adore roses of all kinds. I used to have resplendent bush roses in front of the house. They were not supposed to be pruned. My ex decided to cut them back (for whatever reason). They never came back . . .
LikeLike
Roses are quite hardy and can benefit from a proper pruning… that said, they are living things and will not survive if they are hacked up… grrr… grrr…
LikeLike