Once upon a time I told my sister that I wanted to plant a rosebush. I’m usually not big into purely ornamental plants, but roses are more than just pretty flowers.
In addition to being gorgeous flowers, their petals and hips are edible. And they’re good insectary plants to boot.
While I was still making my plans to plant a rosebush, I walked outside to find that one had volunteered against the side of my house.
It felt like an answered prayer–a special gift from God just for me–even though I never made an explicit prayer.
Yesterday the 6 year old decided I needed one for my hair. My first response was to be upset that he’d picked one of the roses. But then I paused to think. And honestly, how could I be mad that he’d picked a rose when he was thinking of me?