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Sweet Granddaddio “Hey SD, it was your mama’s turn to answer the phone but she’s not here.”
Sweet Daddio “Where’s she at?”
S GD “She’s at your Aunt Mabel’s.”
SD “What, you didn’t want to go?”
S GD “Naw, Mabel is mad at me, and doesn’t want me coming over.”
SD “Oh no! What’s she mad about?”
S GD “I have no idea, but if I knew, I’d do it again when she got over it.”
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This is a wonderful antique rose, a prolific bloomer with unparalled aroma. Wow. That reads like a catalog insert. It really is gorgeous, kind of a purpley hot pink, depending on the light. It smells almost like lemons, with a rose-ish overtone and undertones of spice. When the bush is in full bloom, showing off 15 or more flowers at a time, you can smell it from clear across the patio (30 feet). I had it in the Old Town, but dug it up before listing the house so I could bring it with. I was NOT leaving it behind for some redneck to park his tractor over
(that’s what happened the last time we moved. I had a gorgeous OLD Dr. Van Fleet climbing rose, and the guy that bought our house parked his rig on top of it. I swore never again. Dr. Van Fleet is a pale pink, like porcelain, and makes a bazillion perfect flowers. If I’da known Dr. Van Fleet when I got married I woulda had the wedding in April when it’s peak blooming, it’s that pretty. Only now it’s dead from Billy Joe parking his fricken tractor on top of it.)
