Climbing Rose

"You must trust and believe in people or life become impossible." -Anton Chekhov

How, you might ask, is it possible that I avoided painting my house for, oh, a full decade? What black arts of procrastination did I practice to put off such a basic task maintenance for ten whole years?

Well, let me introduce you to my climbing rose. 

Once upon a time, when my first-born was a baby and my other daughters were just a dream, I developed a passion for pink climbing roses.

What could be more magical, I mused, than a two-story trellis loaded with lush pink roses that scramble up the side of my house, reaching all the way to the second floor bedroom? 

I imagined my infant daughter and her future siblings spying the pink blossoms nodding in the breeze as they played in their room, sleeping in the rose-scented air, and reaching out the window to snip blossoms off to put into vases. 

And that first summer of my motherhood, when I went out and bought myself a pink climbing rose and planted it under my dining room window, my fantastical dreams of a two-story rose bush seemed quite far away. 

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But time passed. 

My climbing rose grew. And grew. And grew.

By the time my firstborn was nine or ten, and her three younger sisters had joined her in the upstairs bedrooms, my climbing rose had grown all the way to their bedroom window.

And all my climbing rose dreams came true, exactly as I hoped they would.

I'm sure you can imagine the happiness and satisfaction I feel every time I step out into my backyard and glance up at this beautiful fairy tale. 

And I expect that you can also imagine the concern and dread I felt at the thought of some strange men with long, clangy metal ladders, large sheets of plastic, and spray nozzles swarming all over my beloved climbing rose as they paint my house. 

Terror surges through my veins just to think of the danger and potential disaster that might befall my beloved roses.  

So that is why I've procrastinated so long and hard. Summer after summer, I put off this house painting project, telling myself that next year, NEXT YEAR FOR SURE, I was going to have to get on with it.

This year, I couldn't delay any longer. After a long chat, my outdoor contractor, Juan, assured me that his lead painter, Saul, is a consummate professional who knows just how to deal with such matters.

So I will trust Saul and his team to carefully, carefully pry loose the trellises and protect my climbing rose while they paint behind her, and then carefully reattach her to the house. 

Then - and only then - will I breathe a sigh of relief.

And I will be glad that I trusted my house painters with my climbing rose. 

* * * * *

Our humble home is in need of a face lift. Come follow along as we have her painted. 

House Painting

Paint Colors

Climbing Rose

A Wonderful Day