Friday, July 3, 2009

Rose's Fan Club


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I can still remember walking into my greenhouse that fateful morning in 1986 and seeing the mass devastation. Three hundred dead or mortally wounded. I fell to my knees, looked heavenward and cried...
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"Damn you Rose Arsenault!"
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In the mid-1980s I was a farmer. I had studied Plant Science with a minor in Horticulture at the Nova Scotia Agricultural College in the less than aptly named town of Bible Hill (Truro). It was a godless place, but that's another post. When I returned to New Brunswick I started my own greenhouse business. Among other things, I grew cold-frame tomatoes.
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Tomato plants don't like frost. On May 8, 2006 I turned on the television to watch the evening news. The local CBC meteorologist blossomed under the name of Rose Arsenault (my apologies to honest meteorologists, of which there are none, at least in the Atlantic provinces). If I remember correctly, Rose was a receptionist, or something like that, who fell into the role of weather girl/starlet. She was immensely popular. Her sunny disposition and countless other attributes (wafer thin eyebrows, among others) even spawned a fan club. Many men, young and old, were avid members, as were scores of the blue rinse crowd. It must have been hell for Rose to shop at Zellers, always stalked by admirers, not to mention being watched by the ever-present Zeddy, the semi-creepy Zellers mascot. A lot of mascots are creepy, when you start to think about it. Remember the Snuggles bear?
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No one gave a damn about the weather, except me.
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Rose's overnight forecast was for +1 degree Celsius. That forecast was scarily close to freezing. I was nervous. The cold frames offered some protection from the elements, but they were unheated and at the mercy of the weather gods. When I leaped out of bed at 6 a.m. I immediately went to the window that offered a clear view of the outdoor thermometer. Minus eight. . Minus eight!!
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Hoe-lee-sheet.
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I put on my snowmobile boots, ski pants, parka, toque, balaclava and glacier gloves, then went outside. As I approached the 80 x 25 foot greenhouse, I felt a sense of doom. A heavy frost on the grass didn't bode well. I cracked the door open and slid inside. It was an agricultural homage to the Reverand Jim Jones' Jonestown, Guyana massacre. Three hundred of my leafy little disciples....all dead. All of my hard work was gone.
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Again, for effect, damn you Rose Arsenault!
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I've never forgiven Rose. Oddly enough I decided not to boycott my beloved CBC after the tomato fiasco, though Rose got a chilly reception every time I turned the television on. Note: my infamous boycotts started later in life, when I became older and more curmudgeonly.
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Now, I'd like to share a rose story with you which is glowing. On Canada Day, two days ago, I dropped Wendy off at the airport and then carried on toward Lincoln. I needed to purchase a rose bush so I stopped at Rowan's Greenhouses, located conveniently in south central Lincoln. I've bought many perennials from David Rowan and his wife over the years. They also specialize in annuals but I'm far too Scottish to buy something with such a fleeting lifespan.
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I'll nay be ha'in pritty flewers that last such a wee tie-em!
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I was trying to describe to David Rowan what I was wanting to purchase, when I looked up and saw a healthy row of rose bushes between his greenhouses and his home.
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"I'd like something like those", I responded, pointing to his rose hedge.
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"We don't sell those here", he replied, but then added "wait here for a minute."
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I waited for the prescribed minute and then one more. David returned with a large pail and shovel,then proceeded to dig up one of his own roses for me. He wouldn't take any money for it, though I offered. I proceeded to purchase a number of perennials that I hadn't intended to buy. I just felt inspired by David's generosity, and the need not to rely on one blooming rose for a brighter future.
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But he that dares not grasp the thorn should never crave the rose.
Anne Bronte
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On May 10, 1986 I rescinded my membership to the Rose Arsenault fan club, and they promptly appointed a new president.

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