A few days ago, I noticed this rose growing in tall grasses out on the edge of the vineyard. It seems to me that there used to be more little rose bushes planted at the ends of vine rows, but they've gradually been disappearing. They were always nice splashes of color at this time of year.
The ones you see here grow in an absent neighbor's yard. We haven't seen G., whose main residence is in the Paris area, since last year. Waist-high grasses and weeds have taken over her yard and the gravel walkway around her house. The man who used to come mow it and keep it neat-looking is fairly elderly, and I suppose he no longer wants or can do the work. I haven't seen him in a year or more.
G. is a widow and a retired teacher. She's active in local politics where she lives in a suburb north of Paris, not far from CDG airport. Over the past few years, she's been doing a lot of traveling to exotic places like India and the American Far West. She has told me that she really wants to go see New York, but I'm sure she hasn't been able to do that in 2020. I hope she gets to make the trip one day. G. is about six months older than I am. She has children and grandchildren who will inherit her house when the time comes.
My plan for the day ahead is to make bread and make lunch, after walking the dog. I guess I'd better get busy.