A rose by any other name...

A rose by any other name would smell as sweet….

I love roses.  I love the way they look, and I especially love the way they smell.  My Grandma Monson grew beautiful roses.  And my Grandma and Grandpa Monson’s front porch was encased in a lattice work of climbing roses.  Each summer, when I visited them, the sweet fragrance of roses met me as I approached their front door.   The  smell of roses reminds me of all the happy times I had at Grandma and Grandpa’s house.  (One time when I was out running, I suddenly thought of my Grandma.  I wondered what had caused this sudden memory.  Then I noticed that I was running by-and smelling- a hedge of roses.)  When I had a house of my own, I knew I wanted roses planted near the front door.  My roses may not last all summer like Grandma’s (Logandale summers are a bit warmer than Salt Lake ones) but right now they look (and smell) beautiful!  Happy Spring!  



Kay and Corinne Freshman year at college visiting GM and GP Monson in SLC. The little girl is my cousin Becky.  Note the climbing roses in full bloom



My roses this year

More of the same

A close up view

These next two are from a few years ago, but I have a hard time getting a person to pose in front of my roses these days. This one is Lynae -age 8 ready for her creative dance recital

Analise age 11-just posing

This one's a bit blurry, but it shows my Grandma Monson's back yard and more beautiful roses.  She truly had a green thumb.  Oh, and that's my cool mom graduating from the "U"