...by any other name...
What is it about roses? While they may not be everyone's favorite flower, I don't know of anyone who actually dislikes them. One of the world's greatest honors, (to my mind better than the Oscar, the Emmy and the Tony combined, better than being elected to high office or even the Nobel Peace prize) is having a rose named after you. They are as loved and cherished as their namesakes - the famous: Queen Elizabeth, Elizabeth Taylor, Dolly Parton, Shaharazade; the less than famous: Alister Stella Gray, Francis Debreil, Mrs. Dudley Cross, Mrs. B.R. Cant; the noblest of ideas: Peace, Fellowship, Joyfulness. Love; or someone's homeland: Dublin, Suffolk, Shreveport, or Arizona. For obvious reasons, Elvis Presley's rose was named Graceland, Somehow that sounds more "roselike" than his own name.
It seems to me that when God made roses, He put within them the very essence of love. Their intoxicating fragrance, velvety petals and vast array of colors all speak of something more of heaven than of earth. And they have their own language. A white rose is the symbol of purity and devotion, while a yellow rose suggests faithful friendship and pink roses bring to mind young romance. But when a woman receives a bouquet of red roses, it carries with it the promise of enduring love and unbridled passion. Indeed there is something wild and almost dangerous about red roses. Of course, not all promises are kept, and sometimes people can be disappointing, but that is not the fault of the rose.
My husband photographed this rose in our backyard, and shared it with me because he knew I love painting them. Now that is true love! Deciding that only oils could capture its subtlety and delicacy, I used the photo as the inspiration for a softer, more Impressionistic version of this rose. Unfortunately, we don't remember its name, though I am fairly certain it doesn't have anything to do with Elvis. The painting was finished yesterday and is still too wet to handle, even to photograph, but you will see it here Monday or Tuesday of next week.
It seems to me that when God made roses, He put within them the very essence of love. Their intoxicating fragrance, velvety petals and vast array of colors all speak of something more of heaven than of earth. And they have their own language. A white rose is the symbol of purity and devotion, while a yellow rose suggests faithful friendship and pink roses bring to mind young romance. But when a woman receives a bouquet of red roses, it carries with it the promise of enduring love and unbridled passion. Indeed there is something wild and almost dangerous about red roses. Of course, not all promises are kept, and sometimes people can be disappointing, but that is not the fault of the rose.
My husband photographed this rose in our backyard, and shared it with me because he knew I love painting them. Now that is true love! Deciding that only oils could capture its subtlety and delicacy, I used the photo as the inspiration for a softer, more Impressionistic version of this rose. Unfortunately, we don't remember its name, though I am fairly certain it doesn't have anything to do with Elvis. The painting was finished yesterday and is still too wet to handle, even to photograph, but you will see it here Monday or Tuesday of next week.
1 comment:
A fellow blogger of mine suggested it might be called New Dawn, but this is much smaller than that rose. I am anxious for everyone to see your wonderful painting of this rose.
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