Long forgotten roses of Kazanlak

[...] For a brief moment she glanced with the corner of her eye at the majestic white and red roses that ascended the roof of the bungalow and towards the sky. Their staggering perfume took her back to the Bulgarian rose valley near Kazanlak where she had travelled back in her 20's in an attempt to find out what it was that she wanted to do with her life. Home is where your heart is. She’d seen this quote numerous times on every influencer’s social media feed, but she had always felt this was just a cheap cliché. She’d find out much later that her endless roaming around the world would only reveal that her heart was already split in two parts of the earth and home, for her, would spread over two continents.

When she was ready to let herself zone out again and forget about herself for a while, the buzzing of a stubborn bee that was hanging about her favorite white rose snatched her right out of her daydreaming plan. “Rouhe… yalla!”, she heard her own voice raising while throwing her hands in the air in a successful attempt to scare the insect. Many years ago, she promised that she’d keep using her husband’s dialect no matter what. Mostly she practiced with the bees in the garden or with Nala, the ash gray Scottish Fold cat that Amir had gifted her right after their 5th wedding anniversary. Nala came into their lives in a watershed moment, so when Amir showed up in the doorstep holding a small ball of fur so tightly as if the wind would snap it right out of his arms, Alisa felt less lonely for a moment only. It took months until Nala filled the emptiness of the couple’s hearts.

Visibly annoyed by the rude interruption of the bee, Alisa stood up and started walking along the alley that led to the backside of the bungalow. She remembered the flowers hadn’t been watered yet, so she decided to grab the watering can out of the old shed and start her morning routine. The shed was just 30 feet away, but Alisa carefully took her time. She needed to take all that in, analyse every detail and remember it exactly the way it was, then and there. For a second, she was impressed with the way the old house, with its centuries settled foundations, brought a feeling of welcome to the entire landscape. There was a playfulness in nature, in the skies and soil. The time of plenty was coming and the joy of abundance energised the air. In the soft rain she felt a new warmth inviting her lips to shape into an innocent smile. The greenness of the grass was soon to be echoed by the trees surrounding the house while flowers promised their rainbow garland to the Earth. She had never seen blooms that appeared to kiss the sky so boldly and so vividly as those bright red roses. They had raised themselves from the earth as if they were a magic trick turning the shy earth into steady flames. She wondered at the creation of Al-Karim (The Noble, The Bountiful, The Generous). A joyful hoopoe startled her as she hopped on the bright emerald grass with her long pinkish-brown crest which rose out of excitement. Her deep brown legs matched the soil below. She came in her earthy hued browns, that rich yet gentle shade that reminded Alisa of the woodlands. She hopped over the wands of grass as if she had springs instead of legs, as if the world was her trampoline and she moved to a sweet birdsong she was yet to sing. There was something in the way she moved. A joy as she relished the season change. The spring washed in like a tide. Advancing confidently with its wrapping warmth and scorching sunshine one day and retreating behind woollen grey clouds the next. Sometimes, just like today, the rain would fall gently, and other times it would lash at the windows of the bungalow with its typical iciness [...]