A Rose

Now that Valentine is over for another year, the stinky socks are back on the couch, the dog is farting and scratching and the cat hairballs it in the corner. The dishes are piled in the sink and the trashcan is over flowing.

Even picking out the nougats leftovers from that red heart shaped box to swallow down with a flat beer shows life is back to normal.

The romance is over until next year or unless you get in trouble.

A single rose is always an icebreaker.

When the cold shoulder is beginning the chill the mood, a surprise single rose can make the heart flutter and you are in like flint.

Cards are informal, candy is fattening, jewelry is expensive; but a single rose is the most romantic.

If one rose is good, how about two? Only works if each is handing out one to the other. 

The next move is three long stemmed red roses in a thin vase with a ribbon around it. That can be placed and appreciated in any room and is perfect for the cat to knock over.

It has become customary for rose bouquets to consist of one dozen roses. They can be used to represent perfect beauty or to express our complete love and gratitude. One dozen red roses have become the definitive symbol for true love.

It is best to be delivered so they can find the perfect spot. A dozen roses is quite a large arrangement that even the cat won’t attack. Whether the centerpiece on the dining room table or over the mantelpiece, a dozen roses are a focal point of any room.

Learned this rose trick early in life. Every mother’s day, I’d have a rose boutonnière to wear to church. At cotillions the custom was to hand a single rose to a girl for a dance. Even if she wore a corsage with her smelling salts in it, the rose would be gracefully accepted, thorns and all.

Don’t remember my parents every passing roses around but they were old married folks. Not having a green thumb, there were no plants around until…

To thank her for a memorable evening, I sent a dozen roses to her workplace as a reminder of my exhausted appreciation.

The one-night-stand turned into a two-night-stand and then a three-night. 

So I upped my game and sent TWO-dozen roses. Two-dozen roses are the size of boxwood bush. That many roses make a room smell like a funeral parlor.

A year later, roses were being planted in the yard in every shape and color. If I’d ever get in trouble I’d just walk outside and trim my forgiveness.