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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