“STOP! STOP!” I yelled. Newt grudgingly pulled the Mule over. He was even less thrilled when I ran to the hot pink spots in the grass. “Really, we are stopping for a weed?”
Not a weed, but my most favoritest flower in the world- the rose. Its beauty is overwhelmed by the soft, fragrance that makes you forget all your worries.
Some call it “Prairie Rose” or “Wild Rose”. But seriously folks, we are on the prairie out in the wild range, so plain old boring “Rose” will do.
But how can this be boring? Drink it in.
I hope you find a wild rose and can enjoy the sight and perfume as much as I do!
My brother and I used to go to a spring around the barn and eat the petals of the wild rose we found there. My favorite rose is the yellow rose that so many settlers to the area planted at their homes. It blooms on my birthday 🙂
Love, love, love Prairie Roses. Any suggestions as to how I can transplant some into my yard? If they can survive along the roads of our beloved Sandhills, they should be able to survive my questionable gardening abilities. Grandma had the perfect touch with flowers!
Wow — is Rosa arkansana that variable? The first picture shows broken color, something I always thought was confined to cultivated roses.
The wild prairie roses vary in color and intensity. Last year we had more “broken color” than usual. I didn’t realize it was genetic.