I have fond memories of my grandmother's roses. They were on the side of the house that got sunlight, and every variety she grew popped with brilliant color against the white stucco. She would cut the best candidates to put in a pitcher or vase on her dining room table. I can't think of anything I'd rather do than close my eyes and deeply inhale that sweet, sweet scent. And the involuntary sound on the exhale, "uuummmm......"
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