"I found It in the hedge row. . ."

My sister and I have been talking about yellow roses.

A couple weeks ago I got my mom and sister to watch the BBC version of "North and South," a brilliant adaptation of one of my favorite novels. As the film began my sister groaned: "Not one of these!" She associates 19th century classics with Jane Austen, and she's not too keen on Austen, actually, she hates Austen.

"You'll like this one," I told her. And she did.

In the final scene of the film Mr. Thornton and Margaret's paths cross on a train platform and the following takes place:

Mr. Thornton: You'll not guess where I've been.
[Thornton pulls a yellow rose from his pocket]
Margaret: You've been to Helstone! I thought those had all gone!
Mr. Thornton: I found it in the hedge row. You have to look hard.

Thus we have been talking about yellow roses.

My sister had a sleepover at her friend's house Wednesday night and when she got home yesterday afternoon I was up cleaning my room. As soon as she was in the door she was calling my name and came running up the stairs with something behind her back. Playing along, I ignored whatever she was hiding and asked her how the sleepover was.

"Good," she said and then handed my a yellow rose. My eyes lit up with excitement. "I found this in the hedge row," she said in her best British accent. And then we laughed.

A yellow rose is romantic.