By LINDA DYETT
“Won’t you come into my garden? I would like my roses to see you.”
Richard Brinsley Sheridan, 19th century Irish playwright and politician
There they are, jam-packed profusions of them, jostling for space as they shamelessly beckon passersby in front of every self-respecting bodega in New York. I’m talking about roses (and other flowers too, but mainly roses), brightening our dingy streets—and our lives–in these, fingers … Read More