In a far corner of my garden, tucked behind a spruce tree, an old pink rose grows rampantly. I give it little attention and mostly forget about it until I see it blooming with abandon in early summer.
I got the rose from my aunt, not once, but twice.
The first time she gave me a start of the rose, she said it was from my great-grandmother's garden. I planted it in my first garden, happy to
Chasing the Rose: A Book Review
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Oleh
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