I honestly can not look at this photograph without crying. We talked about the hidden stories in objects this week. Well, let me tell you the silent story of these roses…
They belonged to Madame Kremer who passed away a few months ago at the age of 97. She lived in this building, tucked away in the center of Apt, all her life. She planted this rose bush in the quiet corner of a gated, cobblestone foyer with her father when she was a child. This rose bush is about 90 years old.
Maybe it’s because I have been planting things in our garden with Eloise since she was too small to even walk, holding herself up on the mossy stone edging digging in the dirt with me. Now, even at three, she delights when the flowers we plant bloom months later. She cups baby rosebuds in her hands and kisses them calling them “bébé” To think, perhaps, one of the five climbing rose bushes we have planted together could live on long after me, and inspire future generations year after year with unyielding beauty.
There is something about life here, in this simple photograph of a vase of roses. The passing bulb on the table of a rose long gone picked up off the floor of Madame’s entrance. The roses are represented in all their stages of life…Kremer, me, Eloise. This image is inspired by her roses but I also added ours, because that’s what it is really about. Not just a beautiful rose bush, but the stories, the hands, the generations the roses pass through in all our gardens.