A Rose Is A Rose Is A Rose. . . .

One of the bushes that Lisa and I inherited when we arrived at Casa Claire was this small Rose Bush that sits out front in the Jack The Spruce Grotto right next to Goldie.

I completely suck at trying to grow things, so if they don’t grow on their own, they don’t grow, period. I will water them, and talk to them, and even give them a hug, but that’s the extent of the interaction. As a matter of fact, the only things that consistently grow here, other than Spaghetti’s dwarf apple trees, were here when I arrived.

The above is the first bloom of 2024.

I like this particular Rose Bush, because it reminds me of my paternal grandmother, Spaghetti’s wife, and the matriarchal leader of my Bronx Irish Clan, Rose (née Redden) McCaffrey. We knew her as Posey.

Posey grew rose bushes around the front of the house on Mosholu Avenue. We had a wooden trestle over the front stairs leading up to the house that was burdened with white and red roses every June. Posey and Spaghetti had magical green thumbs. In fact, Posey once grew an epically large pot of marijuana plants in her living room window back in the 70s when the Ginger tossed a handful of seeds into one of Posey’s flowerpots.

When my sister returned from college and told Posie what those healthy green foot tall plants were that were sprouting on the windowsill that actually faces Mosholu, and the passing squad cars of the 50, Posey was aghast, and the pot – ceramic and plant – disappeared.

The Ginger was upset.

Posey was gangster. I always wondered if she sold it.

Grandparents are important.

Anyway, my eldest granddaughter carries Posey’s name – Scarlett Rose – and she shows a lot of the same spunk as my grandmother. She may indeed hold the Clan Matriarch title some day, although Jackie – preternaturally gifted – appears to be next in line after Veronica passes. Strong women.

Scarlett is ballsy, inquisitive, and tomboyish, like Scout from To Kill A Mockingbird. If only I was as wise (and good looking) as Atticus Finch.

I do believe Scarlett is partly feral, and I mean that as a compliment, because I believe Claire has received more brushings than Scarlett during her time here at Casa Claire and she likes to wander the property investigating everything natural and supernatural. Like me, and her dad, she likes to walk around barefoot. And she has a very mystical side to her.

That’s Scarlett with her spare heir, Savanna, commandeering my office yesterday without so much as “by your leave”! I expected her to shout “Captain my captain!”

Scarlett looks out for her sisters.

Scarlett is a wonderful reader. I did not know that when I wrote her character into The Wise Ass, but I did know how much she loved her then infant sister, Savanna, so they were an obvious choice to be the two sisters who were the first to love the young foal Claire and teach her how to speak.

Claire, Scarlett and Savanna, all grew to adulthood in The Claire Saga and are all part of the motley crew in Where The Ley Lines Meet.

They spend a lot of time together here at Casa Claire.

Scarlett has an inquisitive mind. She spends a lot of time investigating every small facet of my eclectic existence. A million questions about so many things. “What’s this for?” “Where did you get this?” “What’s this do?” “Can you really . . . .?”

Usually when I’m really busy doing something else. My responses are as eccentric as the items she enquires about, often causing the younger sisters to ask “Scarlett, is Dude telling the truth?”

A constant refrain throughout my life.

I’ve tasked Scarlett with mentally causing the enclosed tin foil to spin in this experiment.

She doesn’t graduate to Hogwarts until she can accomplish it.

Here she is calling forth support from the other Witches of Eastwick in the experiment.

I’ll give them each $100 bucks if they pull it off.

Stella was yet to be born when I first started writing. In fact, she was still “in utero” when An Alien Appeal went to print. I acknowledged her Latin status in the Acknowledgments of AAA.

Stella arrived with great fanfare in Kissing My Ass Goodbye. I felt I owed her a big part, having already included the rest of her as of yet living generation – including her cousin Lucian – and sure enough, she got one.

Another example of life imitating art is that Stella is the enforcer of her siblings. She must have gotten the Ginger gene, which began with Spaghetti. Stella will race forward and challenge you physically. Literally do her best to take you out. Absolutely fearless. The Queen’s Hand.

Which is why her character in The Claire Saga is a hybrid warrior princess.

Savanna is the middle child, more girly-girly than her siblings, though she shares that feral streak, but she is the dark child who is equally beautiful and smart and funny.

And just a little mad, in a purely McCaffrey middle-child way.

I’m seeing a little of Janis Joplin in her. God help us.

But Savanna is the deepest of the three. And very creative. A perfect witch.

But Scarlett Rose is their leader, like her siblings, part witch, part warrior, and one hell of loving and protective a big sister, so I am confident that no matter what else happens in this lifetime, she will steer them all in the right direction.

Now that I’ve had some time to observe the terrible trio after such a long absence, I’ve come to appreciate their individual personalities, and at the same time see the connections between them and those ancestors now older or even across the veil. Scarlett carries Posey’s genes. A rose is a rose is a rose. And that is just pretty cool.

Family is family.

Well, Sunday is upon us. I still have some chores to do, and a separate bookkeeping task for my accountant I have been avoiding but will get to. I hate adult chores.

But before that I need to cuddle the kitties and make my rounds.

You fine, five readers take that Almighty’s Day of Rest command seriously. Family friends and fun, and, if the weather permits, a barbecue.

And no matter what else we get up to, let us make today a great one.