Roses and Laundry

I have two rose bushes in my yard. Considering our northern climate (we are Zone 2), I only buy the hardiest varieties, and while both bushes experienced significant die-back, they survived and are blooming and I’m a little disappointed because they are both the same kind of washed-out red hue.

However, one is blooming prolifically – I counted 25 buds on the two straggly branches and you can see for yourself below.

I played a little with my photo in Photoshop and added a quote that is actually taken from one of our wedding songs. We are celebrating our 15th anniversary in January and yes, I was practically a child bride! (So was Wade; he’s a month younger than me.)

Speaking of husbands, never send a bath towel on an ATV trip. After being caked with mud and sand and developing two mysterious parallel gashes, it will never see the towel bar again.

Laundry is my nemesis. The kids were given several bags of hand-me-downs on the weekend and have proceeded to wear and dirty every item. I am teaching them to do their own laundry, but no one removes stains like a mother. (Maybe I should get MY mother to take over stain removal, if that is the case.) I am thankful that the girls can hang laundry on the line, take it down, fold it and put it away. Though I confess sometimes I just do it myself to eliminate the complaining.

And speaking of laundry and husbands, I must apologize to Wade’s coworkers (all of whom are avid readers of this blog, I am sure). That rodent-chewed-looking area right where the pant legs intersect is not going to be repaired any time soon. I don’t patch jeans, and Wade doesn’t care who sees his undies, apparently. Though if a knee blows out, they go straight in the garbage. I’m not sure how that works.

And I just had a wonderful idea. I’m going to plant rosebushes around the base of my clothesline. Something pretty to enjoy while hanging laundry in the sunshine & breeze. Just not red ones.

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