At the end of last summer, Amir and I got into a DIY phase that saw us building and drilling stuff, doing a spot (or two) of gardening, and so on.
We bought a few plants and set to work planting them – a native bush that is still in midget proportions, a little decorative chilli plant (decorative because the chillies it produces are… well, let’s just say, TINY), a climbing plant that was native to Australia and produced pretty little yellow flowers… and a gorgeous yellow rose bush.
The bad news: the creeping plant died when the idiots at the local council came and sprayed weed killer over it. It just happened to be planted next to the fence so it could climb (and it was climbing fast!), but on the other side of the fence were some weeds… and the council just sprayed the poison indiscriminately, killing our poor, innocent plant.
The good news? The rose bush, which was pretty small and had ONE yellow rose when we planted it…. is flourishing. It’s grown waaay bigger, with many more new leaves sprouting up… but no rose.
Until last week. I spotted the bud, and excitedly awaited its opening. The next day, it was practically in full bloom. I excitedly woke Amir up to show him the fruit of our toil. We sniffed it, made a fuss over it, and waxed lyrical about the fruity, sweet notes of its scent.
Later that evening, it was gone.
Upon close inspection, it appeared that someone had come by, and snipped the new rose cleanly off the bush. It was cut off so neatly, it couldn’t have just fallen off.
I was so pissed.
Look, if I had a rose bush that was just crowded with flowers, by all means, people can come and take one or two, no problem.
But this one had just one. ONE. The first one to bloom since we planted it.
And we had a DAY to enjoy it before some moron came and took it. I didn’t even get to take a photo or anything.