The Comforting Scent of Roses
Before the record heat slips in, I go into the garden to tend to a few chores—dead-heading the spent irises, thanking them for the beauty the shared with us this spring after five years of drought. The climbing rose was next, but on the way, I stopped to check in on our resident sparrow family, newly hatched in the bird house we hung in the ash tree. There on the ground, he lay, a tiny bird—featherless, struggling to upright himself. Mama hovered overhead. With my gloved hand, I lifted him and placed him back inside his nesting place, hoping that he would be accepted.
A few hours later, I saw his little head peeking out the hole between tree branches that had not survived the lack of rain. Sunshine backlit the beauty of the scene. I turned my back to fetch those pruning shears for the roses still awaiting my attention. When I turned around, a flash of blue appeared and quickly snatched the baby from its abode. I watched as he devoured the helpless creature.
nature seems cruel
downcast, I turn to my chores
embraced by fragrance
Sorry to say, this is a true story, just happened and thoroughly bummed me out. I understand an appreciate the concept of the circle of life, and yet to see it happen so clearly is disarming.
I wrote this for Sanaa’s Prompt Nights where the theme this week is take time to smell the roses. I recently heard that this saying was originally spoken by PGA golfer Walter Hagen in the 1950’s. As someone who pretends to golf, I think he must of been speaking to the little importance of a game of golf compared to the many more important things in life.