What's Blooming - The October Rose

In October 2009, I went outside and much to my suprise, there was a lone rose on the rosebush at the corner of my house. Now this rosebush and I have had a contentious relationship at best. It was a gift from a gentleman on our first date many years ago. And I put it into the ground with little hope that it would survive. (I'm not very good with plants. I actually managed to "kill" a plastic plant once!) But survive it did! It flourished! The more I did to try to discourage it, the more vigorous it became. I had friends refer to it as the plant that ate the house as it continued to creep up my railings and then my roof.

I sawed it off at the very base hoping to dissuade it's aggressive nature. But months later when any logical plant with sense would have given up the fight against the impending winter, this bush, the bane of my horticultural existance, insisted on sassing me, by producing one lone, pink, beautiful, yet mocking, rose.

I thought about that rose a lot that day. And I likened it to a person; a woman, who is past her prime, but yet continues with dignity. Here is a poem that I wrote in honor of that stubborn beautiful rose. After you finish, take a moment to think of all of the strong "October Roses" in your life; the women who have suffered sickness and pain and loss, but yet continue to survive against the metaphorical winds in their lives. I can only hope that as my birthdays continue to pass throughout the years, I will one day be considered an October Rose.

October Rose
The harvest of her life has begun.
But the desire to bloom and be revered
Does not wane with the loss of fertility
It does not wane with the passing of the rich season.

Cold nights and autmn winds
Blow and press against the October Rose
Pressing her to give in
And let her season pass.
To relinquish her glory days.

Days of bright sun and warm rain
And soft breezes that gently wafted across her petals
Urging her to forget that she was once destined
For the center of the bouquet.
The frost against her skin
Urging her to gracefully let go
Of everything but the memory
Of what she was.

But the nature of the rose is to bloom
Against all of natures recommendations.
She fights against the coming winter
Bravely yearning for one final flowering
For the admirers of her garden.

For the beauty of the October Rose
Is not in the shade of her pink hue.
It is not in the softness of her petals
It is not in the scent of her perfume.

Her beauty comes from her determined existence
From her hardy nature that ensures she will continue
To bloom
Against the harshness of a cold October wind.