I worked in the rose hedge today Justin, more like I cried in the rose hedge today. The Zephirine Drouhins are so beautiful this year. We lost quite a few canes to the winter, but those that survived are full of blossoms. They are intoxicatingly fragrant. I wander through them and touch their blossoms, the petals curl in such a fetching way, and I cry. What I would not give to walk with you again amongst the roses.
We are having one of those rare, perfect days in May, where the sky is so blue it almost hurts. It may be too windy for some, but you remember how much I love the wind. There is something so wild and free about a wind that comes out of the northwest, it brings air that has rushed over mountains, clean and clear. Do you remember how I would call you boys outside when the wind changed in the fall, that first north wind to bring crisp air?
I pruned the hedge, took out the dead canes, gently coaxed the longer canes to grow along the fencing. They remind 
me of you. The Zephirines are so gentle, so rare do they have a thorn. I can run my hands along them and never fear a thorn. They bend and sway with the wind, they are the most agreeable rose to spend time with, content with their simple life. I took out some canes that had buds on them, never easy to do when you see the potential for beautiful blooms in the buds. But I know for the health of the rose, they need to be pruned. Sometimes I focus on those few buds lying at my feet and miss the hundreds that have unfurled in the sun. How much did I miss of your life I wonder? I wasn’t done watching you grow. I miss the seasons of your life. Some days I can’t get ahead of the pain, but I have learned to feel it, to stop running and let it wash over me.
I should go out and pick up all the old canes and trimmings and stuff them in leaf bags. The hedge looks much tidier now and not so cluttered. I think you would love the yard this year, we have a large assortment of what some folks would call weeds, we call them flowers. There are two large rabbits we see regularly, where there are two, there are most likely more. They live under the garden shed, I am sure they have quite the snug warren. We also have an expanded family of Mason bees. They are incredibly friendly and we don’t care that they are boring holes in the fence posts, live and let live, we will get new fence posts. I have been trying to coax them to land on my hand, they haven’t yet, but I will keep trying.
I wandered back to the roses, like a moth to the flame, I can not stay out of roses nor the wind. The harder the wind blows, the more I have to be out in it, the north wind calls me, touches my soul. So much more I have to tell you, so much more I want to share with you, Justin. Maybe that is why the north wind calls to me. Maybe, just maybe, it can carry my love to you on its wings.
