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April 1, 2009
The yellow roses bend their heavy, scented heads in the warmth of the sun. Buds are beginning to unfurl, hopefully. I dare to pick the blooming rose and bring it inside, burying my nose in its fresh, yet nostalgic scent. I choose a vase carefully, knowing that the hapless blossom will attract the attention of the kittens, which it does. To the captive cats, the flower must smell like the forbidden outdoors, and be equally fascinating. I put the rose in the kitchen when I go to bed, and when I get up the next day itís shredded. Lesson learned?