While I showed an ultra-closeup of one in an earlier post at our last place, I couldn't resist showing another angle of my newest Mister Lincoln rose that has just begun blooming this first full week of summer. As I'd mentioned in prior posts, this was the one that I always associated with memories of my dad back in his suburban yard outside of Portland before he chose a new life out of state far from me. I clung to the memories of us and roses, growing up in the City of Roses, spending time at the rose gardens and falling in love with his rose stained glass pieces and, of course, his roses in the backyard.
His Mister Lincoln grew almost six feet tall, or at least that's what it felt like, and when I rented my first house in Seattle when I was a wee lass of 26, he grew a few in his greenhouse for me to plant there. I always grew roses wherever I was, whether it be along the path in the Santa Barbara rental I shared with my first husband, in my front garden of the first home I ever bought back in the Rose City, a huge patch in front of the barn on the farm, along the 'top tier' of the back garden in Rainier Beach, and finally, here in our little sanctuary in the Valley.
I continue to grow red roses. Red seems to have been with me since the beginning...so much so that for decades I pretty much thought I was crazy when I'd thought my first memory was of a "red room with red bedspread"...until I finally scanned my dad's Kodachrom slides and found this photo of us. After all, it was the 70s....
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