On Monday, I saw this patch of wild roses on our way out Trace Fork Road, which is another way to get to our home if you don't mind about 9 miles of back roads (we usually come up Joe's Run, which is is 4 miles from the two-lane). I worried all day that the state roads workers we saw on the way out would cut the roses before we returned. (I really do worry about things like that! Every year they cut down the Canada lilies which are fairly rare in this area. Don't they know???)
But the roses were still there when we returned. Larry stopped, I got out. A tractor appeared around a curve. Larry backed up to get out of his way, I scooted over to the fence. When the tractor was gone, I got back in the road, and was just ready to take my pictures when a pickup came around the curve--he was following the tractor, you see. This is haying weather bigtime this week and everyone is in the fields getting it done before the rains hit again.
So back I popped to the fenceline--Larry had decided to stay put where he was.
"Come on," he yelled. "Hurry up." Even his patience wears thin sometimes.
Yeah, right. I can't hurry when I'm taking pictures. Sometimes it takes going backward as much as going forward.
And sometimes it means taking time to stop and smell the roses.
I just hope I'm not found smashed flat by a tractor one day, camera still dangling from my hand, beaide a roadside patch of wildflowers...although I suppose there are worse ways to go.