Every morning in spring as I step out the back door to begin my walk, this is the vision that greets me…white roses cascading over the back fence from a neighbor’s yard. This morning, this beauty takes me back to Mother’s days so many years ago, when as we got dressed for church, my own mother would pin a red rose to my dress and a white to her own. I was older before I could ask the question about why mine was red and hers white. It may even have been only on that Mother’s day when I was baptized for the first time and confirmed into the Presbyterian church (I was 12). But today, I remember the white roses my mother wore and that I would wear today, if we still did such things.