Wild Roses

I have many wonderful memories from my childhood. Some of the fondest ones are times spent on my grandparent's farm in Iowa. The wide open spaces, the brilliant green fields of corn and beans, the musty barn and the oily smelling tractor shed, all were part of the grand adventure.
First, though, was the three day drive in a van with seven other people. Those trips were adventures in themselves! Maybe I will write about them one day. We always looked forward to seeing the next state sign. Once we crossed the Iowa line, we knew it wouldn't be long before we would arrive. But perhaps the most anticipated part of the journey (next to grandma's cinnamon rolls!) was the sound of gravel hitting the back of the van. My grandparent's farm was on a gravel road, and once we hit gravel, we knew we were just minutes away from the farm.
Iowa is a special place and not just because I have family there. Okay, at least partially because I have family there. But it is special for other reasons as well. Like the softly rolling hills, the variegated green fields, getting to be up close to the animals and the sense of community. There is just something special about sitting on the front porch, waving at tractors as they go by. Or having other drivers wave at you as you are driving down the road. Or just being able to ask, "Grandma, who is that?" and hearing a story about how she knows them. All of these things and more, make Iowa special.
One of the most special things about Iowa is it's state flower, the wild rose. I love roses, as a general rule. But, I have always thought of roses as being the cultured variety that you see in bouquets and in stores. Though they may not look like their more cultured cousins, wild roses have a beauty all their own.  
One summer, while visiting my grandparent's farm, I was walking around in the yard when I saw these beautiful pink flowers growing beside the front porch. Curious, I asked my grandmother about them. She explained that my grandfather saw them growing by the side of the road and liked them. So he stopped, dug up a couple of the plants and brought them home. He then planted them by the front porch. The grew and multiplied and filled in their little corner, making a beautiful display when in bloom.
I didn't know right away that the beautiful flowers I admired were wild roses. It wasn't until much later, when researching the state symbols for all fifty states that I learned the significance of the little roadside flower that my grandfather liked enough to bring home and plant in his yard. Now, it has become one of my favorite flowers. Every time I see one, I think of my grandpa (now in Heaven), my grandparent's farm, and the wonderful state of Iowa.