Even the presence of a single rose is vaguely disarming. But the presence of thousands of roses is like a drug that stills the ceaseless motion in my mind. Thoughts are no match for this thick honey sweet air that, by some peculiar chance, seems to hint at the nearness of my love. Now I am a thousand times disarmed! How does one preserve such a place as this? Yesterday the winds and rain were wild and so I walked far out of my way to pass through my rose garden, for fear of her safety. But I should not have worried for a thousand roses in a storm are every bit as beautiful as they are in times of peace. Perhaps more so. Now they spin and swirl wildly and droop to lie heavy upon the dark moist soil. Now the air is thicker still with the scent of love and the ground slippery underfoot with the silken paste of rosepetals and rainwater. Now, all about me here, there is character and resolve as well as delicate beauty!
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