Flowers are the joy of nature, the smile among the green leaves and the scent in the wind.
Many years ago I met a man who loved flowers, nature in general. His name was Ivo.
He was in charge of the rose garden in the city where he lived. A beautiful and large place full of different species of roses and other flowering plants.
He was the most botanical nature-knowledgeable person I have ever met. He knew their scientific names, what each species needed, how much sun, water, type of soil.
He knew how to prune each tree according to its type, how to make a graft, or various forms of grafting.
What was best for the soil, how to fertilise it, how to help it.
He knew all about fruit trees, shade trees and unsuitable trees depending on the place.
But flowers were his fascination. He taught me how to prune the roses properly, at what time of the year, where specifically, not too high and not too low, and to wait for the last frost in September.
In Argentina, the last frosts can occur in spring.
So you had to be patient and wait, otherwise the rose bush could get burnt with that last frost.
Not only did he know everything, but the love in his eyes for nature was indescribable.
He used to have a book of medicinal plants, which he lent me to learn about them.
If I had any queries about plants, I went to him. He was a real open book.
He had a lot of experience and also years, and when he could no longer work with nature he simply decided it was time to leave. He was 80 years old.
He became so close to my family that I thought of him as my grandfather. He was very special
A few days ago I walked through a beautiful rose garden, in a large park and as I walked in that place only that man came to my mind. I know he would have liked to see it with his own eyes.
Beautiful roses, with a predominantly red colour, which stands out against the green foliage.
They are not florist's roses, the kind of roses that last a long time. They are natural roses that open quickly and whose petals fall forming a red mantle that intermingles with the intense green.
Intensity... and love for flowers had Ivo, too much love. Perhaps he passed on a little of this love of nature to me. Through him I was able to see it in a different way... more intense.
The day before he died, I went to visit Ivo and he said in my ear: You are the rose of my garden.
Knowing what roses meant to him, that was sublime. He waited to say that sentence to me. I knew it was goodbye.
Amonet.
All photographs are my own, taken with my phone
Separators created by me in Photoshop
Used translator Deepl.com free version
