Reflecting back on the wild rose thickets of July 2nd: Roses and razors , brought to you by the letter "F"

Visibly different, but alike in so many ways, they both cut and slash, inflict pain and draw blood.

During my five hours in the rose thickets, I became very familiar with the letter "F". More specifically "F-bombs."

I learned at least two dozen ways to drop an effective F-bomb: F this, F that, F you, F me, F off, F everything, F everyone, F all of this, F nothing at all!

F the river, F the sun, F the birds and bees, F the flowers and the trees (especially the roses).

As someone who tries not to swear very much, I found it increasingly easy to say the F word as I passed through the razor sharp thickets.

At that point, dropping F-bombs at regular intervals came more from habit than reaction. As a matter of fact, I became proactive with the release of the word, sometimes dropping the word two or three slashes in advance.

I said it just because I could. Sometimes it was the complete word and other times it was a burst of repetitive fuh, fuh, fuh's. And sometimes I yelled it loudly, knowing full well that no one would hear me.

In those five hours of July 2nd, I was able to create quite a repository of F-bombs and have enough saved up to last well into the future. Now I can just think it and not say it.

Finally, after nearly two weeks, I removed what I believe was the last thorn from my leg.

They're beautiful, but F the roses....