Freshly cut garden roses, handpicked from a friend’s garden in Carmel just a week ago. The colors, the texture and naturally the smell. I cut this grouping and then enjoyed them for days on my desk. They have since died and they are only a memory. Beauty and inspiration come in some many places. I am always surprised when things happen that trigger a memory. Growing up in Los Angeles, we had dozens and dozens of rose bushes. There was a white picket fence with roses climbing all over them. When they were in full bloom it was really one of the most beautiful sights. I remember there always being bunches of cut roses all around the house.