The Garden Angel

After Mom died, my husband and I dug up one of her special roses--Angel Kiss--to take it to Oregon with us.  A living birthday gift of love from Dad to Mom, Angel Kiss' petals--soft, fragile, and fuzzy-- are lusciously lip-colored--a passionate pink surrounded with a warm, sweet, and delicate fragrance.  Each year, she is the first rose to bloom in the sleeping garden kingdom--stretching and gently awakening one bud at a time--followed by her other Angel Kiss siblings.  I imagine, that all of the other rose varieties--who jealously pale  in comparison--including the erectly tall, debonair, and dark, red-headed Mr. Lincoln--can only stare in awe at the simple and unrivaled beauty of the demure, little rose who dares to strut-her-stuff first.  And the impatiently curious honeybees--how eagerly they anticipate her entrance--the hypnotic awakening of this little garden angel who will be the first to share her mysteriously intoxicating perfume with the neighboring lavender.  I can't help but  imagine, that someone--somewhere--is making sure that each late spring--when the ground has warmed enough--this humble, little rose takes the unparalleled place of honor that opens the magical door to a much deserved celebration of vibrant scent, color, and excitement!
Joanna Rios,
May, 2010