The Beneath-Rose

May 24th, 2012

Three years ago I planted yellow roses. And for the past two years  lovely yellow roses bloomed. This spring, I watched more yellow buds form, waited expectantly.

Suddenly, on Sunday, blooms. Dozens. But not yellow–those I could still see forming, the tone peeking out from under the green. No: these ones were red. Out of nowhere, red roses. From the same trunk, the same root. Red roses everywhere.

I have never been so perplexed by my garden. My neighbor claimed this eruption meant I would soon find passion. I was ready to accept her explanation, but to be sure, I went to my source for all information & knowledge. I  posted this:

Turns out my yellow rose is a hybrid, grafted onto an original root stock. The red roses are the original, and as the hybrid starts to die, the root stock sometimes blooms in their stead.

The red rose is, I learned, “the beneath-rose.”

Think: a hidden origin, lost but not gone, responsible, a precedent, suddenly erupts. It takes over the descendent.  The beneath-rose. Beautiful, both in bloom and in metaphor.