My Little Loves: The Soul of a Rose


There is just something about this painting that makes me swoon:

Sigh!

I could stare at this painting f  o  r  e  v  e  r.

I am not a deep thinker when it comes to art, but whenever I look at My Sweet Rose by John William Waterhouse, I am instantly transported to…to wherever on earth this woman is standing.

I’d like to think that this woman (she strikes me as either an “Ingrid” or an “Amelia”) is inhaling the sweet aroma of that rose somewhere inside the walls of a Grecian villa.

It is a dewy morning.

8:30-ish.

Ingrid/Amelia is barefoot.

Her robe is silk.

She is headed to the beach for her morning walk when lo! a plump, pink rose catches her eye.

Ingrid/Amelia can NEVER resist the urge to stop and smell a rose.

Neither can I.

Which is why I love this painting and plan on hanging a copy of it in every room of our house.

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3 thoughts on “My Little Loves: The Soul of a Rose

  1. Amelia smiled as she enjoyed the memory of last night in her mind like a precious jewel. He was there last night. His thick black hair and piercing gray eyes cut through her heart.

    They had danced and shared a bottle of Bergerac until it had given every ounce of its soul. The room was full of the intoxicating fragrance of roses. They made her dizzy with their heady fragrance.

    Once they had laughed until she felt she would burst with delight he had slipped a small velvet box from his pocket. Her heart stopped beating for what seemed like an eternity. Was this the moment she had long awaited?

    Quickly slipping to one knee he had uttered the words she had long prayed for – would she be his wife? She had made up her mind long ago she would be nothing else!

    Still drunk with delight from the night before, Amelia inhaled the fragrance of a rose to prolong her ecstacy. Soon she would be with him again. They would dance and laugh, this time as man and wife. Until then, she had her roses.

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