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Fall is suppose to be the most wonderful time of the year. With Halloween and Thanksgiving. It is a time for families to get together to have big evening meals. Watching the leaves change colors and to have the parents rake the leaves only to have the children laughing and jumping into the pile. Letting the children help make pies and decorating the house up for Halloween.

But, for me fall is the saddest time of the year. For my grandmother passed away in the fall three years ago. As a child growing up I spent my summers with her, working in her garden and helping with her roses. Every day that was nice, she would be out there taking care of her roses.

She loved her yellow roses the best. So, when I got older I would send her a dozen of yellow roses ever chance I got. The best part was seeing her when I gave them to her. Her eyes would lite up and she would give me her brightest smile that would put the sun to shame. Because, I didn't just wait for her birthday or any other special day to give them to her. Because, if I did it would take the fun out of giving them to her as a surprise gift. A gift of love.

She would tell me stories about her growing up. She told me all about her own little garden when she was a child. She told me about her own mother's love for flowers and gardening. She told me that she loved planting a seed and watch it grow into something special. She said that watching that one little seed grow into something special is the most rewarding thing you can have.

She would always get stars in her eyes and a dreamy look on her face as she told me about her first love. Bringing her a single yellow rose to her, on their first date. From that day on she told me she fell in love with the man that gave her the yellow rose and the yellow rose became her favorite flower of all. She told me also, that roses was always her favorite but after that day the yellow rose became even more special to her. She told me that man became my grandfather and every year on their anniversary he would buy her a dozen of yellow roses.

Now ever time I see a yellow rose, I think of her. Every-time I go out to work in my own garden I think of her. Now, that she is gone, on the anniversary of her death I put a single rose on her grave and thank her for everything she has taught me.

In a way its a way for me to keep my memories of her alive and my grandmother's love for her roses and work she put into her own garden. I reminds me of her time and patience she took out of her life to help me learn to grow the most beautiful flowers in the world. I will never give up growing my flower and now I'm teaching my only daughter to grow roses, plus, some other flower also because flowers cheer up everyone and make your place look nice.

Learn more about this author, Reva Niner.
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