Roses are red, my love

A strange thing happened at my place today.

We have a fully enclosed courtyard at the back of our house, with table, chairs and barbecue. It backs on to a lane way, but there is a high roll-a-door which is the only access. We are the middle of a block of three, with a fence and lattice top on each side.

So, this morning, just near the back of the table and chair set, I found on the ground a fresh bunch of roses, still in its cellophane and not in the least bit wilted.

Rose 1From the angle they are in, it doesn’t look like they could have been tossed over the roll-a-door from the lane way. Now I’m wondering which of our neighbours threw them there and why.

In my mind, I have a whole film scenario playing out: the Bad Partner has bought the roses for the Hurt Partner, to say sorry. But the Hurt Partner says this is not good enough, and the Bad Partner cannot be forgiven. In fact, it’s over.

The mind boggles. I can understand how, in anger and sorrow, you might toss the gift away, over the roll-a-door and into the laneway behind the house. But I still can’t fathom why you would pop them over the fence to the neighbours.

Oh well. Now I am left with a perfect bunch of red roses. Do I knock on the neighbours’ doors and ask if they have “lost” some flowers? Or do I take off the cellophane, put them in a vase and enjoy them?

Or…is it one of those Candid Camera type TV shows, filming me to see if I keep what’s not mine? Or perhaps secret agents have mistakenly targeted me and planted listening devices in the blooms…

rose2

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4 thoughts on “Roses are red, my love

  1. Look at a positive scenario where, following joyous acceptance of the peace offering, the roses were flung in the air in the excitement of making up in the traditional manner, and flipped over the wall into your courtyard…

    The Cray

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