Grandad’s rose.
My Grandad was a man of simple pleasures. His garden, a cup of tea and a good bargain all brought a smile to his face, so when his favourite brand of tea offered a rose bush in exchange for collecting coupons it was right up his street.
Many cups of tea later he proudly presented us with our rose bush. Just a small twig with a few roots, we didn’t have high hopes of success but how wrong we were. Every year, for the last 30 years, a single beautiful rose blooms. Every year we look at the thin twig and wonder if the flower will appear and every year without fail it does.
It’s always a reminder that no matter how humble the beginnings or how plain and unassuming the outward appearance may be, great things can happen.
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