It's August, so this is the second blooming of the three roses in the back yard. They are small, weaker than in June when they first appear. The smell is still wondrous, that old fashioned smell that is just rose. It's taken several years for the bushes to get strong and I spray their leaves with soapy water to keep bugs off. In winter they are covered with styrofoam cones to survive. Such labor in comparison to southern California where, around Torrance, the roses just bloom in canopies and seemingly without attention.
