One of the first things I did when we bought the bungalow next door
and turned it into my studio was to transplant a Vineyard Rugosa
along the fence at the entrance to the backyard.
It was a tiny little thing back then
which had been rescued from the edge of the bluff.
The rest of which has long since been washed away and returned to sea.
It is now taller than myself and is the very first rose to bloom each spring.
There is nothing, positively nothing, that can take me back to the island faster than to smell those roses.
And, after a winter of holing up as a hermit at my easel…
when the first warm day allows it…
I throw open the windows and take a deep breath,
find the scent of the beach roses
and sail towards their promise of an ocean breeze.