October Roses

Return to the daze of my youth.
When I was but 2 years old my parents bought the modest home I live in today. The year was 1956. The house was built in the 1940s just as my generation, the Baby Boomers, were being born.
Around one of the stately White Oak trees that grow in my front yard were what my Grandmother called October Roses. While this photo was taken in December of 2018 as the last of them were dying off I patiently wait for them to bloom again this year signifying the end of another brutal Southern Summer just as they have done every year for the last 63 years and longer.
I know these aren’t really October Roses. An October Rose is a different flower altogether, but as these flowers only bloom in October my mother, my grandmother, and most likely my great grandmother, always referred to them as October Roses. You probably call them Mums, but as Southerners we don’t argue with our Mothers and Grandmothers. If they say it’s an October Rose then that is what it is.
It’s hurricane season now, the rains will be good for them and the hundred year old trees just as seeing the return of the October Roses will be good for me.
Continue reading Canned Possum.