The Pots in My Backyard
Once I start taking pictures, it’s hard to stop.
No, this post has nothing to do with that law California passed a few years ago. I said “pots,” plural.
I grew up with a white rose bush just outside my bedroom window (featured in the snow pictures earlier). Since my window was usually open, I could smell its fragrance most of the year, and I still find it the prettiest-smelling rose ever. Since my parents plan to sell this house, I made some clippings a while back. We might lose the house, but I’m taking the rose with me!
Apparently roses are copyrighted, and it’s illegal to make clippings while the copyright is still in effect. As long as the rose bush is 20 years old, you can assume that the copyright has expired and you’re safe. I haven’t heard of any DMCA lawsuits targeting rose-sharers, but just in case they’re listening: I’m pretty sure these rose bushes were there when we bought the house 24 years ago, and no decryption technologies were involved in my clippings.
You’re supposed to see new growth on your clippings within a few weeks, but mine haven’t budged for a few months—except that all the leaves turned brown and fell off. Now I just have five bare stems standing in plastic water bottles. My mom assures me that they’ve only gone dormant for the winter, and they’ll start to grow when spring arrives. I take but small consolation from this, however, here where I see daffodils at Thanksgiving.
I did have one definite casualty, Number Six, the empty space in the first photo. He was the runt of the litter, because I had already sliced open all the water bottles in my parents’ earthquake emergency supplies. So he got a smaller pot and a smaller bottle. Within a week or two he lost all his leaves, and the stem grew patchy with mold. I was pretty sure he wasn’t coming back.
Actually, one of my roses does have some new growth. My mom takes this as a bad sign, but I am cheering him on:
Please pray that my little children will survive the harsh winter with no more tragedies.