Roses in the Desert!

When I left Seattle, I thought I'd be saying good-bye to roses in public places. I thought a rose garden would take so much effort in the desert that only home gardeners would be willing to give the care and watering required. Happily, I was wrong. (Click on this picture. Do you see them? Not winning any contests--except the one where they survive through 120-degree summer heat--yet they seem gorgeous to me.)

Today, Oliver and I searched for new grass to walk on, since both the dog park and the area around the duck ponds in our retirement complex are closed for reseeding. Our backyard is all rock and desert plants (not his favorite recreational milieu.) My little scruffdog dances and rolls with excitement each morning, knowing it's time to ride in the car to a place of grass. I think there is a law somewhere against refusing to give a sweet, otherwise undemanding dog the one thing that makes him dance, isn't there? So, I pulled out the map and found Miles Park, just a couple of miles away.

This park is completely different from the manicured desert-landscaped grounds of our complex. Miles Park looks like the parks of my Lakewood (CA) childhood, surrounded by homes built circa WWII, with big grass playing fields and covered picnic tables. Workers with lunch boxes arrived in their trucks, greeting friends at the tables. Mothers chased toddlers through the play area. Water sparkled in large Rain Bird sprinkler arces, creating something I haven't seen since I got here: mud. Oliver was ready to tramp right through it. (You can take the dog out of Washington, but you can't take Washington out of the dog.)

And then I saw them--roses! We skirted the patches of mud to walk down the little sidewalk that ran between the rows of bushes. The blooms were small by Washington standards, and had not much aroma, but they were lovely, as only roses can be. If I'd been wearing a hat, I'd have doffed it in respect to the City of Indio gardeners who make this unlikely patch of prettiness possible for all of us to enjoy.

I like desert lanscaping, and I'm prepared to live with it for a long time. But this is such a big move, and everything is so very different than it has been for 20 years, I think finding something familiar just thrilled my heart. I don't have to always be New Susan, Desert Retiree. I can be Old Susan ,who remembers parks with space for imagination and play, and neighborhoods of small bungalows brimming over with Baby Boomer children.

Maybe I'm learning to integrate the various stages of my life. It seems appropriate, somehow. Thanks, Oliver, for the assist. I wouldn't get "out and about" nearly as much if you weren't such a good morning dancer!