There is no white picket fence with a swinging gate and no arched trellis that serves as a kind welcome and open invitation to wander through the rose garden. Now, even though they were once as patterned and colorful as a kaleidoscope, they are quickly becoming beige in color and bland to look at.
Avirtual maze of hedges surrounds the few bushes that stubbornly stave off the onslaught of winter. Their thorny stems grow darker and sicklier. Waxy leaves, once vivid and healthy, are blotched and spotted and curled. Each day dull orange rose hips displace the brilliance and blushes of the petals that once crowned them. The flowerbed will soon be their deathbed. Deep winter is only weeks away.