Only a rose............

It may well have been the hit song from the 1925 Broadway musical "The Vagabond King", but it was a bugger to shift from our front garden !

We inherited it from the previous owners of our maison, so we reckon it was almost 25 years old. Madame decided that it was past it and had to go. I always feel decidedly insecure when she gets those moods on, so as it clouded over about the time I was planning to slide off to the golf course, I thought I would gain a few brownie points and dig up the rose. I should add that I had already passed my allotted monthly gardening allowance earlier in the afternoon by cutting the lawn, so it was indeed, a grand gesture, which does go down very well in France of course.

I thought I would soon have it out and then I could get away to the village for an apero or two.   Wrong !

The bloody thing had more roots than Kunta Kinte and seemed to have been planted in part of the garden which demanded that I bent my aging back even lower than usual. 

I raise my eyes from the keyboard and look out on clear blue skies.  Merde !