A Rose Filled Hour
The language of roses shifts under our feet. It blows in and out like the wind. It carries the fragrance of the flower and then it is gone...It is how we learn to speak about something that is disappearing as we say its name
- Helen Humphreys, The Lost Garden
We love to walk cities, you tend to get a feel for them - especially during the hour when tourists have tucked away for the evening and all you are left with is the city itself. You tend to notice more nooks crannies. One of which is the Botanical Gardens, around the bend from Queen's University. We had maybe an hour or so before the gardens closed - and we found the rose garden.
Every colour must have been represented in the rows upon rows of rose bushes. Dainty and ethereal to cheeky and impetuous to solemn and dignified - so many roses in rank and file, bending over to drip petals onto the manicured lawn.
It was beautiful - and even more so due to our serendipitous wander through a garden closing in an hour. If you ever find yourself with only an hour to wander a garden before closing - do so, you just might discover magic.
