On a rainy November 24 morning in Vancouver some of our roses have buds and a few are attempting to open.

The word in English is hope. I don’t much like that one syllable word that does not flow out of my mouth smoothly but does so as a quiet thud.

I much prefer the Spanish esperanza. It’s four syllables as I utter them come out like a short poem, particularly when I linger and put a stress on that z. The letter z while in the Spanish alphabet it is never pronounced except as an s with the exception of Spaniards who lisp it.

Esperanza comes from the verb esperar or to wait. Thus to hope in Spanish there is this idea of patience added. It seems to be a more beautiful action.

These roses while they may not have any recognizable consciousness, to me they reflect that they have not thrown the towel yet and just some unexpected days of sun will bring with them the heat for them to open.

And of course I have the esperanza that both our roses and yours truly will be around to beckon in the next flowering spring.