Every year, in late April, hundreds of buds burst open into apricot-colored roses on the pergola in my back yard. These rambling rose vines climb high above our heads. When you approach, there are roses in your face, roses hanging over your head, and roses piling up towards the sky. This rose had my full attention. Just one bloom, lit just right under a garden pergola. I’ve abstracted the image down to shape and feeling: peach-pink petals opening toward the sky, deep wine and violet shadows all around. I love how the rose seems to float—quiet, certain, entirely herself.