Rose, Bud, Thorn

Hello friends,

Anyone with a child has probably heard of the “Rose, Bud, Thorn” exercise. It goes like this: a “rose” is something positive that you did or that happened to you, a “bud” is something you are hopeful about, and a “thorn” is something that gave you grief. Chad, Michaela, and I occasionally run through our “roses, buds, and thorns” at the dinner table; it’s a good way to take stock of the day.

For me, the rose, bud, and thorn are usually interchangeable, by which I mean that something that could be the rose could also be the bud could also be the thorn. I guess maybe that is the point of the exercise—not just to be grateful for the positive moments in your day but also to see things in a different light.

Last Friday my mom and I went to Possibility Place, a local native plant nursery, to buy some plants. I spied a small White Oak, which is the Illinois State Tree. I hadn’t planned on buying an oak, but it was just so darned cute—and also on sale. So I bought it and brought it home and we planted it. (“How are you going to drive with the Great Birnam wood in the back of your car?,” my mom, a former high-school English teacher, joked as we loaded up all the plants in the trunk.)

“You bought an *oak*?” Chad said.

“Yep,” I said, adding, “don’t worry, it will be fine.” But I have never planted a tree of any species before and I have no idea how it will fare.

That’s my rose, right now, that oak. And my bud. I’m not calling it a thorn, not yet, but very likely some days it might be.

Love,

Claire