Friday, April 22, 2016

Roses on a clothesline

I always wanted a clothes line with roses growing at the end.  John was never in favor of this idea, claiming he would be strangled by the line somehow.  Really, I think it is a difference in our feelings about clotheslines.  For me, a clothesline somehow means home.  For John, it means having no class.  Sigh.

My neighbor has a nice one with what I think is a Queen Elizabeth rose.

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