A rose or two

A friend gave me / us a rose for a wedding present. It was ruby red and fragrant, and this year it appeared to have died. But before I threw out the roots to repurpose the pot, new growth sprung up in the weeks before Gerald left.
The new growth still looks healthy. I need to prune away some of the dead wood.

A friend gave me a rose for a bereavement present. It is deep, vibrant yellow and fragrant, and still sitting in its earth and polythene in a likely planting place behind the pool.
I nearly gave it back, because of its name.
"Serendipity" seemed either harsh or overly hopeful in the aftermath of grief and extremity.
I didn't.

I won't.
I'd like to cultivate a natural gift for making pleasant, valuable, or useful discoveries by accident.

Maybe less world-changing than Alexander Fleming's return from a vacation to find penicillin molds had killed bacteria where he had neglected to disinfect.
Lois-changing would be far-reaching and ambitious enough.

Someone who has a habit of finding things by serendipity is a serendipper, while a person who acknowledges, believes, and hopes in serendipity is a serendipitist.
It's true, I read it on the internet :-)

L the S