rose babies

A true story that took place this afternoon, as Matt and I took a walk through our neighborhood, wherein I reveal that I am actually pretty ignorant about flower biology. Beautifully illustrated with completely unrelated photographs taken in my own yard yesterday.

Turns out our mystery plant is actually CANTALOUPE!

Let's be honest: in terms of flowers/landscaping/general beauty, Matt & I's yard is basically as good as it gets in our small neighborhood. Although I easily could have come to this conclusion on my own, it helps that other neighbors regularly stop by and tell me this. I'm not just vain- I'm simply re-stating a fact.

Even still, we like to walk around the 'hood and keep tabs on the competition...because it seems like SOME people are trying to beat us (haha like I would ever let that happen). There's a certain house down the street that is providing some particularly stiff competition. It seems that they've figured out our weak spot and are trying to rub it in our faces by growing that particular plant extra-well and in extra-huge numbers. Jerks. (Note: never met the neighbors. Bet they are actually really nice people and that they have no idea what they're doing to me.) 

So Matt and I have no long-stemmed roses. We have three successful knock-out rose bushes, but no traditional (and notoriously difficult-to-grow) roses. I'll admit-- I'm intimidated. But that gives those neighbors no right to rub it in my face by having like 35 FABULOUS long-stemmed rose plants (of various colors and varieties) right there in their front yard. I mean...could they be any ruder? Because their roses are AWESOME and seriously almost bring tears to my eyes. Especially the one they have growing on a trellis around their mailbox, which of course I am forced to stop and smell every time I walk by. Ugh. It's ridiculous and unfair.

So today as we walk by the Rose House, squinty-eyed with jealousy, we again renew our vow that next year, we will have long-stemmed roses. This vow has been made and broken many times before, but this time we are SERIOUS.

Matt: UGH! Why don't we have roses like that?
Me: Because we haven't bought any.
Matt: Yeah, well, they never have any that look that good at Lowe's.
Me: True...next year we will go to Cofer's (local nursery) and get some there. Then they will be even better than the neighbors'!
Matt: They are going to be really expensive. Why don't we just grow some from seed?
Me: [blank stare as I realize I've never seen or heard of rose seeds before]...You can't grow roses from seeds.
Matt:...well then how do you grow them?
Me: [long pause] Umm...I think from clippings?
Matt: [stares deviously at the Roses of Perfection on the mailbox trellis] Well, I know where we can get some clippings!
Me: Ha...no, I think you can't grow them from clippings, actually.
Matt: Well then, where do baby roses come from?
Me: [best teacher voice] Well, Matt, when a mommy rose and a daddy rose love each other very much...
Matt: [laughing]
Me:...then a stork brings them a Rose Baby!!!
Matt: Well, where does the stork get the baby rose?
Me: Well...probably Cofer's. Or Lowe's.
 

Then we cracked up for about 5 minutes because we think we are really funny. And are no closer to having any clue where baby roses come from, other than the store. Oh poor suburbanite Americans...so clueless about the things of the Earth. My farming ancestors would be so ashamed. (Note: probably they wouldn't. Pretty sure they farmed cotton and livestock and not roses.) (Other note: Here's my favorite quote (spoken by older relatives) about my great-grandfather, the aforementioned farmer who immigrated from Italy to Texas back in the early 1900s: "He was a good farmer...and a really good gambler.")