My husband sent me roses.  Three dozen.


But he that dares not grasp the thorn, should never crave the rose.” — Anne Bronte

He sent them to my workplace and everyone who saw them asked about the occasion.  It wasn’t our anniversary, my birthday, the day we first met.  On the surface, there was no logical explanation.

As most women will attest, that is the best time to receive flowers.


The rose is without explanation.  She blooms, because she blooms.” — Angelus Silesius

Still, I knew the reason.

He was glad to have his wife back from the ravages of her day job sprinkled with the constant attention to the round of edits looming on the second novel.

My head had been bent over the keyboard, ear to the telephone, or I was in meetings or functions and absent altogether.

I knew at the beginning of May that my schedule would be rough for weeks.  I suppose most of you have figured this out since I’m only blogging occasionally.

So the title isn’t a misspelling, an error.

photo 1      photo 2

Love flows like flowers and grows like water.  I’m so thirsty for romance, I could drink a dozen roses.” — Jarod Kintz

My roses require a little reading between the lines, read and absorbed for their deeper meaning, inhaled for the aroma of sweetness when there’s time to truly slow down and breathe.

When did you receive a gift for no apparent reason, whose meaning was abundantly clear to you?

Renee Johnson is the author of Acquisition, and The Haunting of William Gray.  She is currently working on a Young Adult novel, while editing a suspense novel which has international flair–an homage to her love of travel and foreign food.  She lives on a farm in North Carolina with her husband, Tony Johnson, and one very spoiled German shepherd named Gretel.