THE LEGEND OF THE
YELLOW ROSE
I was delighted
to learn that the basket I ordered for Jeannie’s Memorial service contained a
yellow rose—and I think it was a significant thing.
I have told the
stories of our little Gang of Four—Jeannie and Martha, and my sister AnnE and
me. We grew up playing in
Grandma Hinkley’s yard. Her house
stood in the middle of a large acreage.
There was a barn, a windmill and a huge garden plot. Out front was a row
of lilac bushes that formed little alcoves where we plotted our plays and
games. But right in the middle of
the side yard there grew a big round bush –bigger around than our dining room
table, and in the spring it burst into bloom. It was covered in little yellow roses! It was a breathtaking sight! It stands in my memory even now!
I have painted
many plates and cups with this little yellow rose, and always called it Grandma
Hinkley’s Yellow Rose!
Jeannie and
AnnElla and I spoke of it often when we reminisced together.
Oddly, the yellow
rose bush stands as something of a monument in the minds and hearts of any of
us who are of an age to recall those long gone days at Grandma Hinkley’s house
in North Swansea.
Not many of us
left now to remember, and that is why I write of the yellow rose.
Betty’s
journal 2016
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