Roses and the Living Sacred
(A personal memoir - currently in creation )
Roses My Grandmother Knew
My grandmother Rosa never hurried in the garden. She moved among the roses as though entering a chapel, quietly, with her sleeves rolled to the elbows and her hands already carrying the scent of earth. She knew each rose by memory.
As a child, I thought she was simply tending flowers. Only much later did I understand she was keeping company with time..
I am writing this memoir from the soft place where my life touches the living sacred — in growing and tending to roses. The chapters are growing out of my own seasons: the rooting, the opening, the weathering, the remembering. They rise from grief and tenderness, from lineage and myth, from the deep feminine current that moves through my days.
As I tend my roses, I am tending myself — the parts that have withered, the parts that ache to bloom, the parts that remember something ancient. This memoir is a devotional prayer. It is the story of how the ordinary becomes holy when I meet it with my whole heart. A sneak peak of some chapters…
On Rooted Beginnings
Inheritance
The Garden Finds Me
The First Rose
On Growth and Becoming
Unfurling
Becoming Fragrant
Wild Growth
On Memory and Ancient Remembering
Roses My Grandmother Knew
The Memory Held in Scent
Remembering the Old Ways
On Love, Grief and Healing
The Season of Thorns
Composting Sorrow
When Nothing Flowered