Yesterday, I stabbed a big spike of wingthorn rose,
Rosa omiensis 'pteracantha', into a big bouquet and smiled in approval at its thorny beauty.
The wingthorn rose continues to catch my eye and camera lens in the garden. I carefully placed it so that the sun shines through the thorns and the thorns glow like stained glass. Pedestrians stop and admire it.
The older thorns turn brown, so I chop my rose bush close to the ground in early spring to encourage those sexy red thorns that I adore. The Neighborhood Miscreants haven't messed with it yet...imagine that.
“But he who dares not grasp the thorn
Should never crave the rose.” (or the thorn)
―Anne Bronte
