What a difference a day makes!

What a difference a day makes!

It’s a patch of dirt. Your crunchy undernourished garden-variety dirt kept dry by the Arizona climate. A patch about 4-by-6 feet bordered by concrete and painted white brick at the entrance to my mobile home.

Little is there to catch the eye. A black lamp post that doesn’t work. The gray gas meter. A tall obnoxious shooter of a nearby tree that needs to be stopped before it takes over (the shooter, not the tree).

A thatch of “pretty” white-flower weeds (related to dandelions)? Dead leaves that came to rest here after their rides on the winds. Clusters of hearty grassy weeds that root stubbornly and can be removed only with determined hand of a trowel.

The whole plot’s something of an eyesore.

There’s one thing this sad little space does have. A rosebush. Planted by a previous tenant.

It’s a tall raggedy spindly thing. A horticulturist would take one look and shriek. Grab shears and prune.

Not that I don’t love flowers or gardening. I do. I’m a latent gardener just waiting to come outta the closet and bloom! No pun intended.

During my 8.5 months to date in this mobile home, I sadly admit: Apart from the occasional water, I’ve done nothing to help or serve the rosebush.

In my neglect, I’ve trusted in the heartiness of that single rosebush. And hoped for the best.

It survived the cold dry winter without my care. Thus far it’s surviving springtime’s ascending heat and arid conditions.

Yesterday when I stepped onto the front porch, rather than cringe at the sad sorry state of the neglected plot, I rejoiced at a discovery.

A rose!

Seemingly out of nowhere!

Honestly, I had no idea even of any buds just waiting to burst by invitation of the sun!

“Welcome, beautiful flower!” A humble song and prayer of reverence.


I stepped in close to see its beauty, to inhale its faint scent.I don’t know rose varieties (no surprise given what you’ve read), only that these are little red roses. Teacup roses, I’ll call them. (For all I know, that might be their official name!)

It was while admiring this bloom that I discovered … more on the bush and more on their way! Buds the size of pecans announcing: Soon. Very soon I too shall answer the sun’s call and burst forth brightly!

Like one little bud, yesterday no larger than an almond tucked tightly and hiding beneath a leaf.

Today is its birthday!


What a difference a day makes!

As as creature of beauty — the lotus — grows from mud, too this lone rosebush from dry neglected soil. A remarkable thing to behold; more remarkable the blooms appearing out of nowhere and with no help or encouragement from me.

(Truth is, certain things seem to do better without my interference or well-intended assistance!)



Yesterday, this pair looked thusly. Today, well, wait and see.


What a difference a day makes!

After debating: Do I enjoy them outdoors in their natural state or do I bring their beauty indoors, I opted for the latter.

Two little red roses sharing a stem in the tiniest glass I own. So appreciated. The miracle of survival. They are lovely to the eye and the nose, the room and the blue bistro table where I do my writing.

They bring beauty and perhaps also a small yet important message:

In the harshest and neglected environment and against all odds, you too can bloom at the behest of the Sun.





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