The Last Rose of Summer



The weather in NW Oregon has been abysmally hot for a few days.  We had to keep the windows shut and the curtains closed.  We don’t have air conditioning because we hardly ever need it.  It was a blessing when, at last,  yesterday’s morning dawned cool and overcast.

We threw open the curtains and opened the windows wide.  I didn’t see it at first.  I was busy at the computer.  Then I caught something out of the corner of my eye.  I turned to look and this rose was looking in at me through the window screen.

The rose bush was growing by the porch when we bought the house.  We almost removed it the first year, but decided to give it a chance.  For almost thirty years now this bush has been tossing out beautiful blooms like candy favors.  August is now more than half over.  There will be a few more roses before Autumn truly arrives.  But the light seems different and the leaves are changing color here and there.  The changing season can be felt in the morning air, and I can’t help thinking of this offering at my window as ‘the last rose of summer’.

This blossom may be the best one yet.  Seeing it brings me joy while I sit here and sip my morning tea and think about what I am going to do today in the way of art.  Moons.  Yes, moons.  Today I will be making moons out of a little cloth.

















About fiberninja

fiber artist, writer, nun
This entry was posted in Art, Cloth, Garden and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to The Last Rose of Summer

  1. ‘A little cloth’ is a lovely phrase – captures the beautiful simplicity and honesty of *cloth* 🙂

    Thanks for following my blog. Eloïse

    • fiberninja says:

      Thanks! I’m afraid all I am capable of these days is ‘a little cloth’….love what I do, but my output is very small, but it is all hand stitched and mostly made from recycled cloth. My profile picture is one of my little creations. I read about your motor home on facebook, so I looked you up. Akh, if only I was younger, I might opt for that way of life with my looms and a little cloth.

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