How'd you like to have a rose named after you? Barbra Streisand, Rosie O'Donnell and Queen Elizabeth are a few who can claim that honor. So can a friend of ours, Sue Streeper. Sue is married to Dick Streeper who grew up with Gene in the foothills of Pasadena. He also attended the California Maritime Academy a year after Gene, along with another buddy, John Cade. John contacted Dick, and the six of us, including John's wife Phyl, spent an evening together in the Streeper's backyard garden this week.
Imagine this setting: a yard 200 feet deep terraced with block walls, fences and wood trellises; a sun getting ready to set and long shadows playing across the lawn and glancing off an array of colors; hundreds of rose bushes lining winding paths and climing over walls; and a table set with candles aglow waiting for twilight. It was magical.
Dick is an expert rose grower (there must be a more professional title). For years he's written a column for the San Diego Union-Tribune and is known internationally as a judge in rose competitions and a designer of gardens as far away as China. He was a founder and inspiration for the rose garden at Balboa Park, one I've visited again and again. Sue is his partner in this labor of love. They bought their home in El Cajon over 40 years ago and slowly turned the garden into the showcase it is today.
Each morning Sue is outdoors early, weeding, trimming, feeding; Dick comes out a bit later, heads to the potting shed or greenhouse where his genius takes over and he creates new varieties . . . like the "Sue Streeper", a living, growing reflection of his love of life and the love of his life, Sue. I am jealous!
I can imagine my roses in Phoenix in shock and suffering through the heat of August while the Streeper's garden is flourishing. I can't imagine what it must be like in Spring at its peak bloom, but I hope we can get back to see it.
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