How strange it should be that my major doses of roses this summer have come not from my own garden, or some countryside stand or greenhouse, but rather from a few bushes in downtown Albany which have been blooming their heads off for the past week or so. Such a sight has given life to my lunchtime strolls, and is a reminder that flowers can offer emotional sustenance in the deepest and darkest of downtown corners.
My relationship with the rose is as basic as anyone else’s, and though we don’t bother with growing them anymore (Andy and I gave up because we don’t have any extra space, or the additional effort the successful cultivation demands) we still love them. In fact, a bouquet of them stands in our den at the moment because I pick them up for Andy from time to time as I know how much he adores them. They remind him of his mother, and so they carry a sentiment that is worth keeping.
These roses are located in a little corner garden right on Broadway in downtown Albany, where they provide a happy sight to office workers out on lunch or a break – should they choose to stop and smell them.
