I am taking my time over this. Letting it happen slowly, whilst I am busy with other things.
Sometimes I am taken by surprise a sort of “ooh. ”
Then others arrive later and I think well of course how could I not have realised.
The Rambling Rose is one. Untidy, unruly entwined with the tree, there may be blooms and perfume and thorns too. She came when she was ready. My logical mind says well it makes sense you’ve got so much already obviously she would emerge towards the end.
The Rambling Rose knows better but doesn’t bother herself with argument. She arrived when she wanted to. A sharp scratch stirred me out of a dream last night and the twirling of her as she took her rightful place around and away from the tree.
She is a wild white.