Sunday, April 13, 2008

Spring Morning

It was a pretty morning, but cold. I ran out in my moosehide slippers to get a shot of the morning sun on the white flowers of the star magnolia. When I uploaded, though, it was the bark of the river birch that interested me. Notice the prolific rose bush that threatens to overwhelm the smaller (and far tidier) star tree. This rose and I have a running battle. It is one of those simple (5-petaled) varieties that will spring up of its own accord in ditches and along roadsides. Left to their liberty, they grow to enormous proportions in themselves, but also spawn offspring which increase the girth of the mass at an alarming rate. This wild variety is, I am convinced, the very kind which protected the princess, Briar Rose, through her hundred year sleep. The branches of these roses spring out maliciously, and just as in the tale I linked below, they latch on to clothes and skin. Once entangled, you can only break free with rips and, oftentimes, blood. I never approach this particular one without stiff armor on my upper body and arms and stout clippers in my hand.

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