My three families

My life currently revolves around three families. All three are very special to me in their own way. My primary family is the one that I live with. It is the one that my wife and I created together, and we all live/have lived with each other for many years. We are all related by the blood that runs through our veins. It is the one that every person has, and ours is as good as it gets.

My second family is my rose family. It is made of people I have met online and through various rose-related activities. My rose family and I spend countless hours together sharing the joys of the rose either online or at our meetings. We learn about our favorite flower, the rose, from each other.

My third family is the one that I have through my work. My work family and I all work closely together and create quality printed materials that entrepreneurs in and around Southern New England rely on daily to keep their businesses on track and going. We make a great team and keep our customers well satisfied with their needs. While it isn’t every day that I am able to write a story that is about all three of the families in my life, this blog falls into that category.

Awaiting the first bloom

Since I opened up my garden for the season last month, I’ve been anxiously awaiting the arrival of the first rose blooming in it. I never know which rose will be the first, as many different roses have had that honour. For a while on social media, I’ve been noticing that a big contender for first bloom in many people’s gardens is the “Wingthorn Rose” (Rosa omeiensis pteracantha). This rose intrigues me as it only has four petals (most roses have five or more petals), and has huge bright red prickles on new canes that are quite “showy.” These red prickles are often the reason that many people grow this rose. While I’d like to grow it [as well and explore (and exploit) its unique qualities] in my breeding program, I will have to wait to do this. The rose is hard to find and propagate. Maybe someday I will grow it, but not right now.

The contenders for first bloom

This year I had a few of contenders vying for the first bloom of the season. They were Morning Magic, Pink Brickhouse, “Orange Surprise,” and Baronne Prévost. Anticipation was running high as to which would be first, with Baronne Prévost leading the way showing color on a half-dozen buds long before the other roses. My money was on Baronne Prévost being the first from the beginning. She was the first to bloom in my garden last year, and chances are she’ll do it again this year. While I just knew that deep down she would was going to be first to bloom, she was being a stubborn old Hybrid Perpetual that was going to do it her way. I kept watching and waiting. She tried and tried, but wasn’t quite ready to open up. Something (or someone) seemed to be holding her back.

My three families and the last fourteen months

With all of my families, the same is true – when one member of the family is hurt, we are all hurt. We stick together and support each other in any way we can. This past year has been incredibly difficult on all three of my families. COVID-19 has been the reason that we have not been able to get together as often as we’d like. Now that the country is starting to really open back up, hooking up with family members that I haven’t seen in a while is that much more special. Next week, we will be having our first official in-person rose meeting with the members of the Connecticut Rose Society. I can’t wait to see everyone. It’s been a long time coming.

Some sad news for one of my workers

Around the same time that I opened up my garden, one of my workers was given some of the worst news that one can get since this horrific COVID-19 disease appeared. Her sister, Pauline, called her one day, and told her that she had tested positive for the COVID-19 virus. My worker needed to be tested right away as she had helped her sister after she fell the day before. Thankfully, my worker tested negative for the virus. Pauline was subsequetially hospitalized, and was later put into the ICU.

Unfortunately, Pauline was not able to conquer the COVID-19 virus. Last rights were given and she died shortly thereafter. While Pauline lived a full life and was loved by many, this does not make it any easier for those who loved her. She was a tough-as-nails old French lady with a heart of gold, who helped out many friends and family throughout her lifetime. She was known for doing it her way, and don’t cross her. You’d know, that there’d be consequences if you did. Her death has hit my worker pretty hard and has been felt throughout our small PrintCraft family.

Back in the rose garden

Back at the rose garden, I had been anxiously awaiting my Baronne Prévost’s first bloom. She is a tough-as-nails old garden rose that has tried for many days to break open her blooms and show forth color to the world. Jean Desprez hybridized her back in France in 1841, and a true old French Madame she is. She was named for the sister of Jean’s friend, Mons Guenoux, a fancier and breeder of Dahlias. This year, Baronne Prévost has been a stubborn old rose that just wasn’t ready to bloom. She was going to bloom when she was ready to bloom, and nothing I could do would change that.

That was until this past Wednesday. I was getting ready for Pauline’s memorial service. That morning she was going to be remembered by those who knew her best. I was on my way out my driveway, and was running late for the service (okay, so, what’s new). Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a pink bloom on Baronne Prévost, and I guess she finally had decided it was time to open up and show some color to the world. I decided that I was going to explore the bloom later in the day after the service. In addition to seeing the bloom, I knew they’d be some great fragrance to be had as well.

Two stubborn Madams and a first bloom for 2021

The service was beautiful for Pauline, and now is the time for all to start to heal. After Pauline’s service, I went back home to investigate the pink bloom I had seen earlier. I also knew I wanted to try to capture a picture for my blog of the first rose blooming in the garden. I was excited. It was time for roses in Harrisville! At the time, I didn’t think that there was a connection between the rose and Pauline. Now, I’m not so sure. Call it divine intervention. Call it coincidence. Maybe call it a stubborn old French Baronne who was not ready to show everyone what she was made of. Call it whatever you want, but as soon as we honoured Pauline, the Baronne set her blooms free.

A bloom ready for pictures

I picked the two blooms that had opened that morning, and brought them in the house to take a picture of them. My wife asked if they were picked for her, and of course they were picked for her. All of the roses I bring in the house are for my entire family to see and enjoy (as well as smell their intoxicating fragrances). But, these blooms were picked for Pauline as well. I took my pictures and while I was taking them, the rose seemed to smile back at me and say “This is Pauline’s doing. Us old French Madams just need to help out each other in any way we can. The time has come for Pauline to be with her mother and father. It’s your job to make sure that she won’t been forgotten.”

Rest in Peace, Pauline. It has been my honour to write something that all three of my families can enjoy. Every year, when Baronne Prévost blooms in my garden, I will think of you and your “little” sister. And now, the world will too.

Epilogue

This story was originally composed on a fountain pen, that I had forgotten I had. It is an inexpensive pen sold as a souvenir, that a Mickey Mouse fanatic must have bought. I have no idea where I got it. It has the classic “Mickey Mouse” ears and three-fingered gloved hand on the cap. When I retrieved it from my pen basket, it had a bent tip on it and wouldn’t write. I tried to straighten the tip but wasn’t successful. I later changed the tip, unclogged the holder that controls the flow of ink, and got the pen going again.

When my worker returned to work a couple of days after Pauline’s service, I brought in two more blooms of Baronne Prévost and gave them to her. They were much better formed (and highly fragrant) than the ones that bloomed earlier. I told her that there was something coming from me that I was writing, and the rose I was giving her was it. And, as Paul Harvey used to say for many years “And now you know the rest of the story!”