Survivor Rose

Hallelujah! My lead teacher has returned from her ski trip, and none of my little students are any the worse for the wear while I was manning the store, holding the fort, zipping the coats, and keeping the home fires burning. Things went amazingly well, and the class continued learning about backyard birds in her absence.



The barbershop quartet from "The Music Man" was playing on my mental cassette even before a sweet parent brought me this rose to help me hang in there! The rose smells fabulous. The song goes:

Lida Rose, I'm home again, Rose
To get the sun back in the sky.

The rose reminds me of my youngest, off in Italy, and without his essential accessory. Yes, my photographer son is a camera battery charger shy. He left it plugged into an outlet when he was here for Christmas. My "survivor rose" reminds me how much I miss the Woolly Mammoth, plus how much I'd like to tell him off for forgetting this important item. I'll be mailing it to him tomorrow, of course. If, and that's a big if, his camera was working, he would take a far better photo of my refreshing and replenishing orange rose than I can.

Lida Rose, I'm home again, Rose
About a thousand kisses shy.
Ding dong ding
I can hear the chapel bell chime.



This image is copyrighted, but the Woolly Mammoth must let his mommy post it OR he won't be getting his charger in the overseas mail!

Now I'll be sniffing a rose and chanting home and om!

© 2008 Nancy L. Ruder