First Brat, First Rose

It’s official. While out combatting the aphid population explosion, I discovered the first rose in bloom. Although there are hundreds of buds, this is the first actual bloom, but darn the luck it is not a fragrant specimen. Beautiful but vapid. An empty suit, you might say. But oh, what a suit!

While out there doing my duty for the roses, I introduced myself to the contractor in charge of the renovation next door. And learned that contrary to my belief it was a spec house going on the market as soon as the construction is complete, instead the house has already been sold. A family bought it, and evidently they have three or four children. In my mind and in this day and age, that constitutes a rather large family. I like kids as much as the next person, but I admit it put a bit of a damper on my fantasy of quiet residential life once my daughter goes off to college in a year. Then there’s this:

One of the new iris collection, and on the label it says the name is, I swear, “Brat.” Why anyone would name an iris “Brat” is beyond me. It doesn’t throw temper tantrums, or wreck the car, or buy too many clothes. All it asks of life is a little sunshine. And as the mother of a teenager, I appreciate that.

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