Well, it finally happened.
My roses bloomed!
It was naive of me to read into the situation too much, to fret that it was doomed to fail without reassuring that over time, I would learn, try again and improve, but sometimes that’s easier said than done. If you recall this post I wrote a few months back, you’ll understand what I mean — how the challenge of picking yourself up after failing seems like a much bigger, more daunting task than it really is. All that’s required is resilience.
Resilience isn’t always innate. It’s learned through hardship and failure. Which is why I’m so happy that my roses came back, bigger and bolder than I’ve ever seen them before.
They were giving me another shot.
After a terrible growing season last year, where both my new climbing rose and an old grandfathered bush were barely holding on, ravaged by disease and pests, I finally got into the swing of caring for them. With weekly fertilizers and organic sprays, my roses overcame the elements with bright, beautiful buds which awakened in the sunshine. People always talk about how growing roses is thorny. I think I took that all too literally, when in fact, they’re just like other plants: you make mistakes, but you learn, you get better, and someday the plants begin to thrive.
These roses aren’t just flowers to me – they’re a mission. They are an exercise in resilience and patience. I can sometimes give up too quickly, doubt myself and my abilities, and I felt like my battle with these buds was a mirror of those struggles. When my climbing roses were decimated by sawfly larva last year, I was devastated, the little holes in all the leaves withering away like my motivation. But when I saw the vine rejuvenated in the warmth of spring, I dug in and was determined to not give up on the little green foliage that was so desperate to keep on.
As I’ve gotten older, adapting to change has gotten more fluid, but it’s not always intuitive. When you’re pushed down, it seems hard to try again, and your fight or flight instincts usually tell you to tuck tail and run, rather than stand firm and fight for what you want. Well, these roses proved to me which one is the more noble response, which one proves that if you get back in the ring, your chances get better.
You just have to keep trying.
So, enjoy these pictures of my blooming roses, because they are a lot more than pretty flowers in the breeze. They represent patience, knowledge, and courage, which is what they’ve given me back, in spades.
What kinds of challenges have revealed something about your true self? Share with me in the comments below! P.S. I haven’t yet photographed my light pink, climbing rose, but once the blooms reach peak I’ll share a few snaps with you guys!
