Flower on my Shoe

I imagine that this is the sort of day that photographers would like. Bright and happy, but with just enough cloud coverage that no one would have shadows across their faces.

The wind whips across campus, making the leaves rattle in the trees and fall to the ground. They crunch underfoot as the students stroll along, coffee in hand, backpacks slung across their shoulders.

I’m telling you, whoever takes the brochure pictures is probably out right now. It’s that kind of day.

And it’s not even chilly. Well, a teeny bit. Just the right amount, so that you almost shiver when a breeze hits you full on, but not quite.

I sat on a little bench by the library and smelled the roses. The scent wafted to me from the flower bed. There was something that looked very old fashioned about those roses.

The roses you buy in stores are crimson, baby pink, or perhaps yellow with salmon tinged edges. They begin to open, and then freeze, in the moment of their perfection. But these Barbie pink roses opened wide, showing off their ugly insides and few petals.

The thorns on these old fashioned roses are tiny and soft, so that they don’t even really hurt you.  Store roses of course have long hard thorns. But the main difference between them is the smell.

Store roses don’t smell.

These roses do.

I picked one, and smelled it and smelled it. Then I put it on my shoe. Unfortunately a few petals came off before I took the picture.

I suppose these roses don’t last as long as store roses either.