I have spent most of the last month with a Juicy Splash rose in its unglamorous phase. It is a miniature rose, with flowers only about two inches across, growing in a twelve-inch pot. The leaves needed watching, and there was the usual round of watering, feeding, and deciding whether the bugs had crossed from being part of the garden into a problem.
I rent, so nearly all of my gardening happens in pots and containers. That changes the scale of attention. A plant is close enough to see every day, and a small change in a leaf or a bud can become the thing you keep noticing. None of this made a very dramatic picture. It was simply the work that comes before a rose is able to do what roses do.
Then, almost without warning, the whole plant changes. For two or three weeks the flowers are so generous that the time spent looking after it seems to gather into them. The blooms are small, but there is something almost excessive about their colour when they arrive together.
I know they will not last long. That is part of what makes them beautiful.
Ephemeral is one of my favourite words. It means lasting only a short time, but it feels more tender than temporary. It captures the fleeting feeling of a rose in bloom: the flowers will be gone soon, but the attention they ask of you lingers. I take photographs and keep a few notes because I want to remember both the blooms and the month of green work that led to them.