In a Vase on Monday: And So It Goes

And every time I’ve held a rose
It seems I only felt the thorns…
And so it goes, and so it goes,
And so will you soon I suppose…
Those are the words of one of the newer songs my a cappella barbershop group have learned, the sad and wistful ‘And So it Goes’, written and originally sung by Billy Joel. Bear with me as I explain about the roses!!

Since the Golfer and I took possession of our Fitbits (activity trackers) on Christmas Day in 2017 we have boosted our steps and total activity by walking to get the Sunday paper, the only paper other than our weekly local one that I make time to read; this can be 2 or 4 miles, depending on whether the little shop in our village is a) open and b) has my chosen paper. Yesterday it was the shorter walk, a circular route round the lanes from the village shop and back home, and on this occasion was unaccompanied by the Golfer. Without a walking companion, as I walked I mulled over potential contents for the next day’s vase, the preparing of which would be my first task on returning home (after my mandatory ramble round the garden of course!).

I had decided on the basics and was considering a possible title when I caught sight of these roses on the roadside verge; assuming they were artificial, I walked past but quickly retraced the few steps, thinking they might still come in useful as props for IAVOM one day. Not surprisingly I was ‘gobsmacked’ to find they were real – and not only real but fresh! Had they been flung from the window of a passing car by the spurned purchaser, or an ungrateful recipient, or as the result of a lovers’ tiff…? We will never know, but there is clearly rejection involved and most likely sadness too in the heart of someone, someone who is now feeling the thorns instead of seeing the beauty of the roses…

The shops will be full of red roses in preparation for upcoming Valentine’s Day, and this bunch has been hand tied with string; having been cultivated under controlled conditions to produce long straight stems and to flower at a specific time there is of course no scent, which for those in our blogging community is unpardonable. Having been presented with this opportunity and an intriguing story, however, the roses instantly usurped my original plans and mulling turned to titles for this enigmatic bunch. Abandoning initial thoughts of a stark ‘Love Rejected’, I chose the more subtle ‘And So It Goes’, thus landing myself with the inevitable earworm!

Once back home, I cut a few stems of wild plum which were just coming into bud, printed off a broken heart and searched through my slimmest vases, choosing this clear glass one to show off the handtied stems. And so it goes: here is today’s vase!

What you will you find (in your own garden or any strange and unexpected place) to pop into your mid-February vase today? Please share it with us, with or without a story attached, and leave links to and from this post so that we can share in the pleasure it brings you. **

** there is an addendum to this story…

The roses, you might recall, were found on a verge, seemingly abandoned in despair or anger by an unknown individual, and in true opportunist foraging style I retrieved them for the vase. Your comments, like my post, puzzled over the possible background to the abandonment but, unless you thought it but didn’t want to say it, no-one suggested as a friend did that they might have been left as a tribute… I was aghast, ashamed in fact, that I hadn’t even considered that as an option, so used am I to seeing sad cellophane wrapped bunches left on roadsides following a tragic accident. For someone who had lost a loved one this way, leaving a bunch of red roses close to Valentine’s Day would, of course, be entirely appropriate, and although I wasn’t aware of an accident having happened at that approximate spot this was no excuse for me not having considered it a possibility.

Reader, I went out under cover of darkness and replaced the roses near to where I had found them, leaving with them a reverent and abject apology…

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