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Wednesday, 25 October 2017

Rose Hips



Lurking behind the two ancient gooseberry bushes is a dog rose. I think they call them dog roses? The wild ones that end up with rose hips at this time of year. Which is the point: I never noticed the rose during the summer, but now that leaves are dropping, denuding brown branches and exposing a fairly monochrome vista, I notice the bright red rose hips. And smile.

Had I seen the wild rose there earlier, and had I the energy, I might have chopped it down, thinking to leave space for the gooseberries. But why? I don’t even particularly like gooseberries...

Sometimes we are surprised by things which suddenly appear. Things of beauty, which we thought were wild weeds, which we might have rejected, discarded.

There is an unresolved situation I’m thinking of, something causing a rumble of disquiet. I lift my eyes to the hills, not to ask their help but to be reminded of the power and love of God, and I ask him for a surprise in this situation. Beautiful colour to appear on this messy canvas. Rose hips flashing on a monochrome landscape.
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