Rose Garden's Last Hurrah

One side benefit of the farmers market is that it’s adjacent to the city rose garden, a multicolor, multilevel marvel with interior pathways that enable closer views of these fluttery flowers. All summer on market days I’ve admired the rose garden as I moseyed by with my peaches and blueberries. I imagine other market goers have as well. But whenever I explored interior pathways, I always had them to myself. Even people picnicking nearby seemed oblivious to this beautiful garden.

Now it’s October though and on the final farmers market day, I noticed a difference. As I approached the market, I was intentional about visiting the roses. Who knows when I’ll get to do this next? Probably not for seven or eight months.

Virgins and marrying aside, I think of Robert Herrick’s poem, which begins …

GATHER ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying:
And this same flower that smiles to-day
To-morrow will be dying.

Other people apparently had the same idea, because I shared the labyrinthine paths with other folks. As I noted roses resembling butterflies and anemones, others also meandered, stopping to finger pink petals, pointing in amazement at roses that towered above them, bending to inhale a full yellow blossom or to snap photos of a low bush of balls resembling swirled cherry-vanilla ice cream. Even market goers who didn’t enter the lovely labyrinth commented that the roses seemed to be more beautiful today than they had been all summer. They slow-mo strolled by with bulging bags of apples and wide smiles on their faces.

Chilly October air froze my fingers into a fist in vain attempt to tuck hands under my jacket cuff. Farmers at the market jammed their hands deep into pockets and bounced in their booths to keep warm. Yet a young mom with bundled babe and big orange pumpkin in a stroller lolled on a bench to admire the roses.

The rose garden’s glorious last hurrah eased my sadness at saying goodbye to summer markets.