When I first met Richard, he was living in a tiny bachelor house. It was quite ordinary, but the property had two exceptional features: an enormous back yard, and a magnificent collection of beautiful roses he had chosen specifically for scent. They ringed the house in lovingly tended beds.
One late afternoon, we sat on the patio with wine and words, when we noticed dark clouds and felt the wind rising. Richard said, “we have to get the roses in because the storm will ruin them”
We raced against the storm, cutting only the roses in full bloom, which would surely be shattered by wind and hard rain. I went inside, opening every cupboard in search of containers, filling them with water. I soon ran through his collection of vases, and lowered my standards to anything tall enough to hold water and roses.
Richard came in as the rain began to fall, his arms filled with color and scent, and we quickly got the roses into water. Then we went around the tiny house, placing rose-filled containers on every flat surface.
Then came the greatest reward of all our hurry. The house filled with the scent of them.
I think that is when I fell in love with him.