There is a graceful arc of pale pink wild roses on the by-pass, at the end of my road. A child could walk under it. Beyond, a dense cluster of briar and hawthorn covers a triangle of land by the roundabout.. Hawthorn and wild roses. Looking out for the rather fast traffic, I crossed the road to be nearer this little paradise. I know that at its edge there is a deep culvert, so overgrown that any brash explorer would fall into it. I looked out on the scene, from a half-overgrown manhole cover.
An arc of wild roses. Behind it two great fields of wheat. And in the distance the Chiltern Hills, in shadow, while the evening sun played on the corn.
I walked home across the by-pass and searched through piles of old sheet music for the song ‘To a Wild Rose’, by Edward MacDowell. I couldn’t find it but a search on the net yielded it: nhttp://www.free-scores.com/download-sheet-music.php?pdf=7561
I don’t know if the reference will work. But the simple tune speaks of a wild rose. I have tried to play the piece myself in the past. It’s not very difficult but it simply evokes a wild rose, in its tenderness, and its innocence of its surroundings. The Internet connection carried a hesitant performance of someone’s attempt to play the piece… on a slightly tinny piano.
All the more poignant for that.
I see that Edward MacDowell lived from 1860 – 1908. I saw his wild rose. Today