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[Comments] (1) A Rose is Arroz is Arrows: I've been meaning to write about roses. Last year for my birthday, Hillary gave me a little bitty white miniature rose--the kind you buy at the grocery store in a four-inch pot. I planted it out in the front yard, and it has just taken off. Now, a year later, it's about 24 inches high and has blooms all over.

The Mr. Lincoln hybrid tea rose in the back yard is also doing very well, and so fragrant! At one point it was higher than the house, which is being very much of an overachiever for a hybrid tea rose. I had Juan prune it back down, and it's rewarding us with even more flowers.

On a sad note, I was working very hard in the yard, hot and sweaty, and a LaRosa guy came by, so I ran in to get my dollar. Imagine my chagrin to find he was not a real LaRosa guy. He sold me a paleta that was labled "Tropical Fruit Flavored Bar." Not a bit of real fruit in sight. Bah. I can do better at the grocery store with Dole. So the next time he pranced down the streeet, suggestively ringing his bell, I made sure it was him and not a real LaRosa guy, and then I ignored him.

This puts a kink in my whole summer.


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© 2001-2006 Frances Whitney.