So I saw a flower today on my walk. And ...Bam! I was back at my Dad's house when he showed me some of his Award winning Roses. Yep. Roses. He was so good at growing them and mixing genes, that his Roses showed up as pictures in Magazines like: Flower and Garden, Better Homes and Garden...and other magazines about flowers. He collected Blue Ribbons like I did baseball cards. Never bragged (nobody in his Generation did. You did your job...and did it well, even if it was a hobby.)
My Dad and Mom were both born before the Great Depression and the First World War...and man, people from back then could do just about anything. My Dad could skin and butcher any animal. Fix anything mechanical from a Car to a tractor. He could build a cabin, or add a room to a house. He knew how to fell a tree, grow row crops, and truck gardens. Fish, Hunt, trap. He grew up on Farms until he went to college.
So when he retired, I thought he might become an expert Clock and Watch repairman like my Uncle Bill. Or start a small engine repair or bike Shop like my Uncle Forest Did. Or maybe rebuild a Classic Car like Uncle George did. Nope.
He grew Roses. I didn't even know he liked flowers!
And he grew absolutely beautiful roses. The Local Florists would stop by and see what he had. He would sell them at a very very discounted price to them. But not all of them. His champion Roses, those he kept to work his magic on.
And he had two separate paths for his roses. Path one: 'Strictly for beauty' those flowers had absolutely stunning colors.
The other path was for fragrance ...and man, those roses smelled beautiful. Those are the ones he gave my Mom. Or gave to me to give to my girl back then. Oh they were still pretty, but they had this soft lingering scent that kinda fit with women and girls. It was like a perfume that made a perfume even better.
When his Best friend died, my Dad made a Wreath out of Roses. Everyone in the Funeral home asked about it. Dad never told anyone it was from him. He made it for his friend...and it remained anonymous. And that was so like my Dad.
I never gardened. Don't have a green thumb at all. But I remember my Dad telling some of his other fellow Rose Growers, to stay out of the shade, and make sure there isn't a lot of root competition. And I didn't even know roots competed. He named some varieties that could handle shade, but he claimed those were English Roses, so they had to learn to adapt to that crappy weather. He also said it was hard to grow roses in scorching heat. So Ohio, if you were a Rose, was a good place to grow up. And if your Dad grew flowers pretty enough to give your girl...well, it was a good place to grow up for a kid too.