This rose is called Wedding Day.
The billowy blooms are strongly fragrant. The buds are apricot, opening to cream then quickly turning white.
The horticultural mother of the bride cultivated this rose for the wedding. Contentedly arcadian arrangements framed the altar of an abandoned bluestone church on March 25th, 1995.
Since then, the dusty church has become a gallery and home.
The laid back, kickboxing celebrant left the priesthood to marry and raise a family.
The groom’s gold wedding band was forgotten in a uniform pocket.
The wanted baby was lost.
The wedding video went missing in a high stress house move.
The argyle diamond fell from its setting in an olympic swimming pool .
And the steely eyed man who gave the bride away edges ever closer to his maker.
Today, Wedding Day is a burgeoning thicket, rambling its way through the bush garden where the reception was held.
Today, there is devotion, fortitude and beauty.