Only a rose ...

My mother used to sing, partly in parody, a song of her youth that began with the words "Only a rose I bring you, blushing as roses do ..." As today's weather relapsed into the grim rain to which we have become accustomed this summer (did you know it's the jet stream's fault?) the rose that should have flowered at least a fortnight ago* began to open. The plant - I think it's Josephine Bruce - has been in the same spot since the 80s, and this year it suddenly shot a new shoot from its base, so vigorous and dark red that I suspected that it was a sucker. For weeks I watched it grow, counting the leaves to see if the tell-tale extra pair would appear, staying my hand when friends suggested I howk it off. And here it is - now about 4.5' tall with one central bloom and a trio of attendant buds. 

Today I think was the moment of perfection, and as the rain began to fall after the sunshine of yesterday, I ran out to take some photos before wind and weather have their way with it. What nature gives, nature destroys ...

*I've just found a blip showing it on July 11th last year ...)