When my son was born, in August of 2016, my mother bought me one of those miniature roses that they sell in the grocery store. It was orange (naranja).
She has suffered from black spot disease this year (you can see some spots on the leaf in the bottom left). My flower garden does not receive enough sunlight for the roses to flourish. They don’t like the hard clay. All four (the red climber, a pink bush, my favorite yellow, and Sergio’s) have had a hard go of it.
We pulled this one from the ground because I refuse to lose her after three years and two homes. She is happily recovering in a pot that sits in a particularly sunny spot. This morning she smiled brightly at me.
No te preocupes cariño, te voy a cuidar.
Don’t worry dear, I’m going to care for you.