The first true primary red rose seen in Europe was “Slater’s Crimson China” introduced in 1792 from China, where it had been growing wild in the mountains. Immediately, rose breeders began using it to hybridize red roses for cultivation. Ever since, the quest for the perfect red rose has been the Holy Grail of rosarians:a fragrant, disease-resistant, long-lasting, long-stemmed, reblooming, perfectly formed rose with a clear non-fading vivid red color. Absolute perfection still hasn’t been attained, and of course never will!
There is a special rose language invented as a secret means of communication between lovers who were not allowed to express their love for one another openly. In the mid 18th century the wife of the British ambassador in Constantinople described this in her letters, which were published after her death. These letters inspired many books on the language of flowers, each describing the secret message hidden in each flower. A red rose bud stands for budding desire.An open white rose asks “Will you love me?” An open red rose means “I’m full of love and desire,” while an open yellow rose asks “Don’t you love me any more?”
人类有史以来就钟情于玫瑰。据说，克娄巴特拉的宫殿的地面就铺满了娇嫩的玫瑰花瓣，博学的孔子有600册藏书专门讲述如何培育玫瑰。
玫瑰本身就是一个传说。在罗马帝国时代，有一个名叫罗丹斯的美丽绝伦的少女。她的丽姿引来了无数狂热的求婚者锲而不舍地追求她。罗丹斯实在招架不住了，不得不到朋友狄安娜的神庙里躲避她的求婚者。不幸的是，狄安娜产生了嫉妒之心。当求婚者冲进了神庙的大门，要接近他们所爱恋着的罗丹斯时，狄安娜一怒之下将罗丹斯变成了一枝玫瑰花，将她的求婚者变成了花刺。
在希腊传说中，玫瑰是希腊花神克罗斯创造的。当初玫瑰只是林中一个仙女的尚无生命的一粒种子。一天，花神克罗斯偶然在森林的一块空地上发现了它。克罗斯请求爱神阿佛洛狄特赋予了它美丽的容貌；让酒神狄俄尼索斯浇洒了神酒，使它拥有了芬芳的气味。又有美惠三女神将魅力、聪颖和欢乐赐予了它。随后，西风之神吹散了云朵，太阳神阿波罗得以照耀它并使它开花。玫瑰就这样诞生了，并立即被封为花中之皇后。
欧洲见到的第一枝真正的原色红玫瑰叫做“斯莱特中国深红”，于1792年从中国引进。当时，它一直生长在中国山区的野地里。玫瑰培育者马上开始用它进行杂交种植。从此，寻求完美的红玫瑰一直是玫瑰栽培者所追求的理想。这种玫瑰应具有芳香的气味、抵御疾病的能力、持久的花期、修长的花茎、反复开花的本领、优美的体态以及不褪色的纯鲜红颜色。然而，绝对的完美却始终未达到，当然也永远无法达到！
人们发明了一种特殊的玫瑰语言，作为不被允许公开示爱的情侣间秘密交流的方式。18世纪中期，英国驻君士坦丁堡大使的夫人在信中对此做了描述。这些信件在她死后出版，激发了许许多多关于花草语言书籍的问世，每一本书都对每种花所隐藏的信息进行了描述。一朵红玫瑰花蕾代表萌发中的情欲；一枝盛开的白玫瑰则是在探问：“你会爱我吗？”一枝绽开的红玫瑰的含义是：“我对你满怀着爱意和渴望”，而一枝开放的黄玫瑰则是在询问：“你是不是不再爱我了？”
The Red Ribbon红丝带
Everyone wants a red ribbon. Red. First place. The best. Even kindergarteners want that red ribbon. In sports, I was never a red-ribbon person. In a race I was always last. In baseball I was as likely to get hit on the head as to drop the ball. In basketball I was fine as long as there weren’t nine other players on the court with me. Where I got my horrible sports ability, I don’t know, but I got it. And I got it early.
During the spring of my kindergarten year, our class had a fieldtrip to a park in a town about 20 miles away. Making that drive now is no big deal, but when you’re six and you’ve lived in a town of 300 all your life, going to a town of a couple thousand is a very big deal. Nonetheless, looking back now, I don’t remember much of that day. I’m sure we ate our little sack lunches, played on the swings, slid down the slide—typical six-year-old stuff. Then it was time for the races.
These no ordinary races. Some parent had come up with the idea to have the picnic kind of races, like pass the potato under your neck and hold an egg on a spoon while you run to the other side. I don’t remember too much about these, but there was one race that will forever be lodged in my memory—the three-legged race.
The parents decided not to use potato sacks for this particular race. Instead, they tied our feet together. One lucky little boy got me for a partner. Now what you have to know about this little boy is that he was the second most athletic boy in our class. I’m sure he knew he was in trouble the second they laced his foot to mine. As for me, I was mortified. This guy was a winner. He almost always won, and I knew that, with me, he didn’t have a chance.
However, apparently he didn’t realize that as deeply as I did at the time. He laced his arm with mine, the gun sounded, and we were off to the other side. Couples were falling and stumbling all around us, but we stayed on our feet and made it to the other side.
Unbelievably when we turned around and headed back for home, we were in the lead! Only one other couple even had a chance, and they were a good several yards behind us.
Then only feet from the finish line, disaster struck. I tripped and fell. We were close enough that my partner could have easily dragged me across the finish line and won. He could have, but he didn’t. Instead, he stopped, reached down, and helped me up—just as the other couple crossed the finish line.
I still remember that moment, and I still have that little red ribbon. When we graduated 13 years later, I stood on that stage and gave the Valedictory address to that same group of students, none of whom even remembered that moment anymore. So, I told them about that little boy who had made a split-second decision that helping a friend up was more important than winning a red ribbon. In my speech I told them that I wouldn’t tell which of the guys sitting there on that stage was the little boy although he was up there with me. I wouldn’t tell because in truth at one time or another all of them had been that little boy—helping me up when I fell, taking time out from their pursuit of their own goals to help a fellow person in need.