My Grandma was a gardener extraordinaire. Our yard was filled with beautiful flowers and plants. Her specialty was roses. She loved them and spent many, many hours tending to her rose bushes. They were incredible to see. Even as a small child, I understood how special and beautiful they were.
I, as most young kids, had a swing set when I was about 4 or 5 years old. I loved that thing and spent a lot of time on it.
|The scene of the crime.|
I was goofing around on one of the swings and I fell off backwards. Into. A. Giant. Rose. Bush.
Ouch! I tried to get out but every move I made hurt worse and worse as I got scratched and stabbed by thorns! I was like a turtle that was upside down on its shell. Picture my arms and legs flailing around with no way to get upright.
I started shouting, “Grandma!” “Grandma!” Over and over but she didn’t come for what seemed like forever. In reality, it was probably more like a couple of minutes.
She finally came out the door and said “What’s up Honey? I was on the phone with your Aunt.” Suddenly, her eyes opened wide as she realized I was trapped in the rose bush.
I got yanked out and she spent the next few minutes plucking thorns from the back of my arms and legs.
Another non-deadly childhood mishap. While it didn’t kill me, I did have a bunch of tiny scabs on my arms and legs for a while!