My mother had more than thirty rose bushes growing around our house when I was little. No joke. Our house was often called The Rose House by our neighbors. When my parents sold that house, the people who moved in afterwards tore out almost half of them. It's no surprise that I ended up moving here to Portland, the city of roses.
spring in portland is truly breathe taking. as a girl that grew up in the high deserts of the rocky mountains, i'm still in awe of the amount of green and blooms that sprout of the ground. Not only the amount, but how large they are. Makes all the months of gloom and rain worth it. i instantly forget that just a month ago I moaned and cried about how sick I am of the darkness. of the everything being damp. of feeling like it's constantly early morning. I even constantly talk about wanting to leave this place. but every year portland proves, there is a light at the end of the tunnel. and, not only is there a light, but lots and lots of roses. and like a dysfunctional relationship, I'm back to loving portland again, and i can't imagine ever leaving.
i owe my start to floral design to this city. It was about this time years ago that I had the epiphany that I wanted to pursue this career. There's evidence of that in my social media pages somewhere (remember flickr and tumblr? do people still use those?). I would go on walks through my neighbor and secretly clip flowers from my neighbors' gardens (so sorry neighbors!), and take photos of my friends sitting with arrangements I put together. Although I have come (i think) a long way from there, I also haven't gone very far. I know now to stick to foraging from seemingly unclaimed areas (though I still get the urge to clip roses from people's gardens around town. I just have to tell myself, "do the morally correct thing."), but I still get my friends to let me take photos of them sitting with my arrangements.
everything aside, i owe a gigantic thank you to the house in inner SE with the five giant bushes of some variety of pale pink garden roses... It was those garden roses that really made me fall in love with the craft. The soft petals, that softly drip when aging. the classic beauty. the classic rose smell. It brings me back to all the memories of watching my mom tending to her roses. And although it may be typical, roses, to today, still remain my favorite flower. and, i will never, ever, ever, ever get sick of working with them.