My grandma adored roses. She had a huge rose garden, that we spent countless hours pruning.

She would hold a rose up to her nose and inhale deeply. She said, " The smell of a rose is intoxicating to your senses."

She never could pass by a rose or rose bush without stopping to smell them first. Doing this little act always brought a smile to her face.

My grandma is no longer with me. The memories of us pruning, watering, and smelling the roses will stay with me forever. To this day I can not pick up a rose or walk by a rose bush and not stop to smell them, and think of my grandma.

My favorite flower is the same as grandma's was, the rose. Where we differ are in the colors. My favorite are yellow roses, hers were the red ones.

The most vivid memory I have of my grandma is, that my grandma grew roses.

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