Rose Hips and Glycerin


Okay, so I’ve never been the outdoor-sy type. I admit it. (You probably already knew that by my mouse-overreaction.) Anyway, it makes being a writer a bit tough. All those lovely descriptions of landscapes and flora and fauna are really, really hard for me to write. I don’t automatically know that a tree is a dwarf pine or that a bird is a piping plover. So when I came upon this vegetation (if that’s even the right word) yesterday down by the lighthouse, I know I can’t trust my instincts that immediately said, “Rose hips!” I think it is, but….. If anyone knows, please advise. In researching an earlier novel, I remember something about Beach Roses becoming Rose Hips as the seasons change, but I can’t be certain. Help, please. Oh, yes, and I do know there are a couple of oak leaves on top of the shrub. I recognized them from years of raking. (By the way, that’s Chappaquiddick in the background. Turned out that yesterday was another(!) incredibly beautiful day. So much for library time.)

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