One of my favourite dog walking routes takes me past a small corner front garden. While I am still about twenty or thirty yards away, I begin to be aware of the heady perfume from the waist-high hedge of old-fashioned roses. The roses themselves are not large, multi-petalled showy specimens, but small and delicately pink, with merely five papery petals, and yellow insides. The bushes are covered with these charming little roses, and although they don’t look particularly special, the perfume is wonderful, light but intense, unmistakable, drifting on the breeze.
This morning a lady was working in the garden, and I stopped to say how much I enjoyed walking past, and how I usually stop to smell her roses. She told me that often in the morning, she wakens to the scent wafting in her through her open bedroom window; what a lovely way to greet a new day!
I have roses in my own front garden, and although their scent is not quite so powerful, if you’re passing, take the time to bend down a little, and smell the essence of summer.