Making the Broken Bloom

In a previous windstorm some weeks ago, the stem on one of my two new tree roses broke in half and the entire bush lay on the ground. I called the landscaper and, over ten days later, he replaced it with a new rose. He said, however, that he thought the broken rose had a 50/50 shot at living since at least half the cambium layer was still intact. He straightened the stem, bound up the break, and put the injured rose in a pot with a strong stake to hold it upright. A month later, the rose looks quite healthy and is blooming profusely. It was broken half in two and I gave it up for lost but a knowledgeable person saw the potential and I have a third lovely tree rose.

It occurred to me that my rose can be thought of as a modern-day parable. So many people have broken lives in today's stressful world. They wander around, often homeless, addicted to mind-altering substances, or mentally ill. Most of us give them up as beyond hope and are ready to throw them away. But there are always caring, knowlegeable people who get busy, bind up the broken spots, plant the damaged persons in safe, forgiving environments and give them temporary leaning posts until they can stand without help. Of course, these "broken" people can go either way, just as my rose bush could have done. But many of them respond, begin to bloom again, and bring joy to the lives of others.

My Own Private Feud

West Virginia, with its Hatfield - McCoy feud, has nothing on my back patio! Last evening, not long before dusk, I had a front row seat for a family feud between the Robins and the Cardinals. Two competing bird pairs obviously want territorial rights for nesting in my Bradford Pears.[I say nesting since I saw the male robin, earlier, with a beak full of string and fiber.]
Buddy noticed the feudal attacks first. He stuck his stubby nose right up against the glass patio doors, swivelling his head from side to side, his attention riveted on the dive bombing males. Swoop! Swoop! Screech! Over and back! Eventually the two birds landed on the fence, perched about 8 feet from each other and pecked the boards fiercely, ruffled feathers increasing their sizes two-fold. Break time over, the dive bombing resumed.
The females got into it a few times but it was mostly a guy thing. I felt a bit sorry for a small, bright goldfinch caught in the middle. He seemingly wanted only to get a few beaksful of seed from the feeder but kept having to fly off to avoid getting caught between the opposing sides. So far as I can determine, the argument was still on when dusk settled. I suppose I'll know who won when the fledglings make their first glides from branch to fence top. If I ever find out, I'll let you know. I couldn't help but wonder, though, why the robins couldn't simply opt for one tree, leaving an equally nice tree on the other side for the cardinals. It seems a no-brainer compromise to me. But I frequently wonder equally about the senseless arguments of humankind. They often don't make much