I spent the morning trimming my roses, cleaning up around their base, and just in general enjoying them. Even with the thorns sticking me, as I battle aphids, I love the infamous flower. They’ve been apart of my life, my entire life. There isn’t a female blood relative of mine, that doesn’t have roses in their yard. It seems to be engrained in our DNA. It’s the marker that reads, “Must have roses.”After I trimmed my dozen or so plants, I cleaned up, and sat down to try to figure out what I was going to blog about. When I heard some voices outside my den window. They were young voices, male and female. The male voice was framed in adolescence with a depth that isn’t sure of itself. The female giggled, which gave away her age.I realized, from bits of conversation, the male was trying to pick my roses, without getting stuck. A task I haven’t achieved yet.This is nothing new to my roses. They sit on the side of my house near the public sidewalk. Even today, I found broken branches from those who just couldn’t resist them, and tore them off the stem. It always makes me hurt for my dear plant, because of the damage. But today, I decided I’d save my plants, and commit a random act of kindness. I grabbed my clippers, and confronted the young couple. Who looked scared witless when I rounded the corner, with clippers in hand. I’m sure the young man was imagining all sorts of torturous things I was about to put on his young person. In short they looked not only very guilty with one broken rose in hand, but just a bit terrified.I asked the young man if he was picking my roses for his girlfriend, who stood clinging to his arm.He nodded, speechless, readying himself for the assault.”Okay, let me cut some for you. I’ll give you a nice big bouquet.”Now they looked completely speechless. He nodded again.So I went about the business of gathering a nice bouquet of my beautiful big roses of various colors. As I clipped I chatted, and told them about the damage it does to the plant to just rip the rose off. The young girl responded that when she had her own house, she wanted roses. I was thrilled maybe she was a convert to the love of the ancient flower. Wrapping the bouquet in newspaper, so as not to damage the fair maiden’s fingers, I handed it to her knight, to give to her.He looked at me, still a bit dizzy, and said, “Thanks, this is so cool.”He gave the flowers to his very thrilled and adoring girlfriend. As they left, I told them they could knock on my door when they wanted another bouquet.I work hard on my roses, and I love to share them. They are one of the greatest symbols of romance and love in the world. And they can brighten any day.  And yes, the roses in the picture are from my yard.  I feel my flowers are like my writing. I work hard at making it beautiful, and want nothing more than to share it with outsiders.Have a wonderful 4th, be safe and stop to smell the roses.Question of the Day:  What random act of kindness have you committed recently?