In the grand scheme of important issues - God, family and country - I wonder where roses fit. I briefly ponder this question occasionally, somewhat afraid of the answer, somewhat aware that roses may be too uppermost in my scheme of things. Perhaps it's the depth and breadth of this passion of mine that unnerves me, being only the second passion I have ever known (not counting DH). Is this what I was born for such a long time ago? Am I supposed to be this passionate about roses? Or have I gone off the deep end way too far, moving the axis of my world off center and my equilibrium along with it? Or is this what life is supposed to be rather than the bland, vague slippage that life sometimes eases into, blindsiding the liver of that life in the final moments.
Wait a minute, self. Let's step back from the edge of doubt and confusion a bit. Passion and rational thought are not mutually exclusive, after all. Protection and promotion of life in all of its beautiful parts is an honorable thing, probably even an obligation. Perhaps passions are just the individual's particular part in the grand plan of protecting and promoting life as a whole. Maybe some of us focus like a laser beam on one tiny aspect of life and some focus like a lightning flash on the whole of life. We're all the same and different, all gifted but not all with the same gift. Reminds me of 1 Corinthians 12 .
The onset of passions can be peculiar, too. Some seem to be passionate about a thing from birth, and others are struck out of the blue and set on a new path entirely. The latter is me and, I think, is the discombobulating part. The sudden compulsion to have dozens of roses, an unknown commodity theretofore, and the immense drive to incorporate them into my tiny yard by hook or by crook was only the initial manifestation of the passion. Now there is the longing for others to know the beauty and suitability of these roses. And so I take photographs seemingly without number and publish them to this worldwide web to make them known, to call to the world and open its eyes to this wondrous, blooming creation, the wonder being in its self-sufficiency and self-perpetuation in a friendly environment. There's a sort of "build it, and they will come" aspect to these old roses, a mystical impulse toward bringing awesome beauty to warm-climate landscapes everywhere.
Perhaps it sounds a little too earthshaking to some of you, but what is is. Now you know better the motivation of my heart, and I think I do, too, but one thing it is not. It is not in any way an attempt to con or dupe anyone or to lure you into an uncontrollable buying frenzy. The paradox is that one beautiful rose bush can inspire as much as one hundred.
Wait a minute, self. Let's step back from the edge of doubt and confusion a bit. Passion and rational thought are not mutually exclusive, after all. Protection and promotion of life in all of its beautiful parts is an honorable thing, probably even an obligation. Perhaps passions are just the individual's particular part in the grand plan of protecting and promoting life as a whole. Maybe some of us focus like a laser beam on one tiny aspect of life and some focus like a lightning flash on the whole of life. We're all the same and different, all gifted but not all with the same gift. Reminds me of 1 Corinthians 12 .
The onset of passions can be peculiar, too. Some seem to be passionate about a thing from birth, and others are struck out of the blue and set on a new path entirely. The latter is me and, I think, is the discombobulating part. The sudden compulsion to have dozens of roses, an unknown commodity theretofore, and the immense drive to incorporate them into my tiny yard by hook or by crook was only the initial manifestation of the passion. Now there is the longing for others to know the beauty and suitability of these roses. And so I take photographs seemingly without number and publish them to this worldwide web to make them known, to call to the world and open its eyes to this wondrous, blooming creation, the wonder being in its self-sufficiency and self-perpetuation in a friendly environment. There's a sort of "build it, and they will come" aspect to these old roses, a mystical impulse toward bringing awesome beauty to warm-climate landscapes everywhere.
Perhaps it sounds a little too earthshaking to some of you, but what is is. Now you know better the motivation of my heart, and I think I do, too, but one thing it is not. It is not in any way an attempt to con or dupe anyone or to lure you into an uncontrollable buying frenzy. The paradox is that one beautiful rose bush can inspire as much as one hundred.
