poetry and prose about place

roses of summer

with one comment

When I go for a walk this time of year, I visit our rosebush and I think of how rosebushes have been a part of my life:

  • the little bush beside our road at the lake, delicate pink double roses and small rosehips… my husband loves this little bush and is always very careful not to cut it when he trims the lane…
  • the huge rosehips on the rose bush (Rosa rugosa Thunb.) at Castalia Beach on Grand Manan Island, rigor in the harshest conditions; once I tried to bring a slip of the bush home in a banana peel (to keep the moisture) but, although it lived and grew, it only survived a few seasons…
  • a tunnel of rosebushes and huge rosehips next to a parking lot where we stopped in Matane, Quebec on our trip to Gaspé a decade ago…
  • a pair of long-gone rosebushes at my Mom’s old home place – when she and my Aunt were little girls, they called the rosebushes Mrs. Pears and Mrs. Rhodes and would visit them with their doll carriages to collect the red rosehips.     





fragments from a walk


brambles and bedstraw  

insect frass and dew

the petals of a wild rose

a rosehip

a red gall  

swollen as a nose with crying


Nuphar and Nymphaea

lily leaves a plate

offering yellow to the sun


familiar trees

suddenly grown tall



© Jane Tims 2008

Written by jane tims

December 10, 2011 at 8:51 am

One Response

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  1. So lovely, Jane. It’s wonderful how a gift from nature collects many memories into a new whole. Peonies are like that for me.


    Ellen Grace Olinger

    December 10, 2011 at 9:07 am

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