When I was little we spent many summers at my Nana and Grandad’s home out west. My memories of these summers include large family dinners, daytrips, afternoons hopping around tidal pools searching for shells and poking crabs, fishing, and the rose garden.
Most of the front yard Nana had turned into a rose garden, filled with bushes of sweetly perfumed blossoms in bright oranges, yellows, pinks, reds and whites. Not like the long-stemmed scentless roses you find in stores at all – big and fluffy, petals not neatly tucked in, short stems, lots of thorns. The stepping stones around the garden baked in the bright summer sun, adding a dry-dirt scent to the air, and when the wind was right and the tide was low, you could smell the ocean.
The garden is long-gone now. The roses were taken away and sod rolled out. I miss it.
Today we spent the late morning and afternoon at VanDusen Gardens, a wonderful park like space in the middle of the city. We roamed the paths. We watched the Koi in the small lake as they followed us. Cameron obediently quieted and, wonder of wonders, walked around the meditation garden. He peeled open the seedpods of the Princess tree later, shrieking with laughter and excitement when he found a bug or a slug inside instead of a seed. We played hide and seek. He saw beehives, and a vegetable garden, absorbed the idea of growing food (next year we’ll plant a garden!).
Best of all, there was a rose garden. Often, these gardens have the modern roses in them, the ones that have been bred for their petals and not their scent. Not there. I found several roses with wonderful perfumes, and instantly found Nana’s garden again when I closed my eyes and imagined a hot sun on my back instead of the cool breeze.
I showed Cameron too. I know his impression won’t be the same as mine, but I told him about Nana’s rose garden while he leaned close to a pink rose and inhaled.