Outside, on my redwood porch, two Jasmine bushes have taken over the entryway intoxicating family and visitors alike. The heady perfume always there. But it's a single red rose this November day that leaves me standing there. Wonder and a sense of hope seem everywhere.
The rose doesn't know it's time should have come and gone. It does not sense - in alarm - anything wrong. The time for the other twisted vines are in accordance with the season. Bare. Just a few stubborn leaves, but no other roses. Somehow, this rose has picked this late date to bloom and to share it's glory. Against all odds.
I admire it, surprised at how healthy it is. Rich blood red pedals still snug and unfolding. It stands out - in the green garden in front of my porch - and calls out to all "Come see me! I'm still here in the fall!"