In the golden hush of dawn, Roston unfurls like the first tendrils of sunlight across a Tuscan vineyard—its Old English roots, roste (“brushwood”) and tun (“settlement”), weaving a story of sturdy beginnings amidst whispering groves. It glides through conversation with the ease of a Vespa threading cobblestone lanes, surprising all with its delicate rarity—fewer than ten newborns in the United States each year—yet leaving an indelible warmth, as comforting as fresh basil laced with sea salt. Bearing an undercurrent of resilience and the promise of unfurling horizons, Roston invites its bearer to stand tall like an ancient olive tree, its branches ever reaching for light and song.
| Roston Chase - |