Rosa 'Darcey Bussell' 14 October 2022

To wait in Spanish is esperar. This is the route to the lovely word esperanza (hope) that is sometimes a woman’s name.

When I look at my roses with unopened buds in a cool day like today, 14 October 2022 I know that they are unable to understand the futility of keeping on with their botanical obligation to bloom.

Because I studied physics in the early 60s, I know all about potential energy. From the point of view of this human, I know this bud will not open. I see beauty in its futility to continue.

To this day my Rosemary’s question before she died, “Am I dying? ” leaves me with an acute sorrow of the fact that nobody can accompany a person in that state. We die alone in spite of those Hollywood dying scenes. Even today I believe those present (my two daughters and my granddaughter Rebecca) did not answer her question.

This unopened rose  bud lives in the bliss of not being able to understand its ultimate end and does not even understand that as a perennial there is the esperanza that Rosa ‘Darcey Bussell’ will return next June.