Oblivious to the smell of new tire, a hedge of bouffant and white briar roses--no funeral carnations these--opened their mouths to the rain next the Canadian Tire on Bank and Heron today.  Their scent--rose by any other name--was enough to overpower smog and tire scent and coffee and donuts--perhaps even the pine air freshener of a man snoozing in his school bus, nearing time for the start of the second half of his split shift.  Still a few rose hips showing--promising so much more than Vitamin C.  I wasn't even in Alberta, but the wild rose was honourary floral emblem of the day.  All that was missing was a bee.