"Rose Night" is our favorite members' event at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden. An evening of endless setting sun...gin cocktails and a vaguely Gatsby vibe...and a dreamscape of roses.
Fancy hats were a theme. Some came from out of the closet...
...while others were concocted on the spot. Father's Day hint: It's a good dad indeed who wears the hat.
My friend's grandmother used to say: There's a thin line between an outfit and a get-up. But in the Cranford Rose Garden, with flowers gotten up everywhere, you can get away with a lot.
Let's face it, the roses are the stars of this show. Anyone who knows only the sad, cold, fragrance-free missiles of an FTD bouquet should be prepared to faint with ecstasy upon meeting the Old Roses...heady perfume bombs with petals so lush they look like a kid drew their finger through whipped cream. (Rosarians call this "quartering," I believe.)
These gardeners paint with flowers.
We left as the sun sank behind the climbers. Twenty years ago, a week from my due date at the cusp of summer, I knew I'd always associate the longest days and the roses with the coming of beautiful new life. I still do.