If you’ve ever been to Napa Valley or Sonoma, you may have noticed that sometimes, at the end of the rows of vines, the farmer has planted some rose bushes.
That was one of the first things I wondered about when Lou and I moved to the Wine Country. When we’d be driving along the valley floor, I was mesmerized by all of the perfectly straight lines of vines that flicked by in a blur, but at the very end of these rows, I’d see a burst of stunning beauty in the form a still and sometimes stately rose bush.
What was that all about?
At the time, I think I assumed this was just a decorative gesture on the part of the vineyard owner to make everything that much more beautiful for all of the visitors that flock to the area to sip on amazing wines. But I soon found out, a flowering rose bush was doing so much more than just adding color.
The rose bushes, it turns out, are kind of like fortune tellers that give them farmer insight about the vines.
Because roses bloom earlier than the grapes form on the vines, and because the soil and environmental elements influence roses and grape vines in a similar way, a farmer can tell if his vines are thriving by looking at the health of the roses at the end of every row of vines. If the roses are faltering or showing signs of attack, then the farmer knows just what to do to spare the vines and their future harvest. But if the roses are thriving, then the farmer knows his vines are happy.
For the most part, nowadays, much of the Wine Country has transitioned into more sophisticated ways to measure how well the vines are doing throughout their growth cycle, and so perhaps the roses really are more about drawing people into the beauty of a well-kept vineyard these days. But today, on my walk, I saw this beautiful rose at the end of a row of vines, and it really spoke to me.
I walk by this very row of vines nearly every single day, and I’ve been paying very close attention to the berries that are just starting to appear on the vines. They don’t look like grapes yet, but I can already feel the promise they hold, and I get such a deeply important sense of progress every morning when I look in on them.
Nothing stays the same from one day to the next in this vineyard, and even though my life seems to be holding steady — or if I’m being truthful, staying stuck at a slightly maddening standstill — I’m constantly reminded that nothing REALLY stays the same. There is always progress. And, when I’m in the right frame of mind, I also know there is always hope.
So when I noticed this red rose for the first time today, it stopped me in my tracks. How did I not notice this blooming beauty until today? How had a missed it when I was actually so present and so aware of the activity on this row of vines every single day?
I guess the answer is, I wasn’t looking for it.
I was too busy looking for the things I was expecting to see.
Lately, my private journal is filled with thoughts and feelings about my flawed sense of awareness. The level of life lessons I’m experiencing makes me feel almost manic because my thoughts and emotions are creating such extremes in my awareness. I write about my highs and my lows, and in each extreme, I’m learning so much more about myself.
But today I’m struck by how some of the most important things I think I’m supposed to see somehow keep getting lost in this middle place in my mind where all of the mundane realities reside. The things that happen all around me that I’m not noticing because I take them for granted, or they’re too easy to gloss over, might be the actual place of greatest perspective and grace for my growth and understanding.
When I took this picture of the rose at the end of my favorite row of vines, I felt this happiness come over me. The signs of splendor are growing in my life even if I don’t see them. There are signs of growth and a thriving sense of progress and potential even in the mundane. Maybe there is real wisdom for me in the boring but accurate cliché:
