A rose, red as blood. Thorns or thornless, a joyful thing. Here is life and beauty, scent of musk, blooms that attract bees and insects. I remember the rose bush at home when I was a child. It had bright pink roses climbing up some trellis work. We used to collect the petals and try and make scented water out of them. It didn’t really work, but it was fun trying. The rose bush must have been eight or ten feet high and as wide. In the summer the scent was fantastic. I remember it was next to an old shed and the paint on the door was green and bubbling off because of the sunlight. The contrast between the fresh roses and the shed door was so interesting….