ROSE (roz) n. One of the most beautiful of all flowers, a symbol of fragrance and loveliness. Often given as a sign of appreciation.

RASPBERRY (raz'ber'e) n. A sharp, scornful comment, criticism or rebuke; a derisive, splatting noise, often called the Bronx cheer.

We hereby deliver:

• ROSES to Thayne Dutson, the dean of Oregon State University's College of Agricultural Sciences. He announced that he will retire this summer after heading one of OSU's historically emblematic colleges since 1993. (That made him the longest-serving dean at OSU.)

It hasn't always been easy. He's seen two recessions, but you'd never have known that by talking to him. Soft-spoken, generous and inclusive, the Idaho native has that rare talent of being a good listener. Maybe that's why he came up with so many innovative plans for the college during almost 15 years as its dean.

We're not sure how much of that will come in handy when he's out herding cattle on his ranch in Sisters, but we're hoping that he weighs in from time to time with college of ag officials, first on his replacement and later with his ideas. His boots will be hard to fill.

• ROSE-BERRIES - and good luck - to Linn County authorities who have vowed to thwart future hoaxers from closing down the courthouse due to threats.

The roses go to those who swiftly handled Monday's emergency at the courthouse in downtown Albany. It was closed all day while law enforcement officials - including some from Homeland Security - investigated two envelopes left at the courthouse. A handwritten message indicated the white powdery substance inside was anthrax bacteria and that 10 other such envelopes were inside. (Immediate first problem: Anyone distributing anthrax in this way would undoubtedly be in peril of death, but we're guessing that whoever perpetrated the hoax is not a Nobel Prize winner.)

Linn County Commissioner Roger Nyquist said no other "knuckleheads" would be able to shut down the courthouse again, at least as far as pending trials are concerned. He was understandably peeved that a juvenile prank ended up scaring a lot of people, keeping 175 off their jobs and causing a brouhaha. He's vowed that a mobile courthouse will be put into use and no court dates will be canceled in future.

That's admirable, but our razzies go to all the aforementioned knuckleheads who now consider that the hoax bar has been raised. We shouldn't assume that those who do such things have a great agenda. Sometimes, it's just their idea of fun.

• ROSES to Corvallis neurosurgeon Cliff Robertson, whose spirited attempt to complete this year's 1,200-mile Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race in Alaska was an inspiration to 60-year-olds (and a lot of other people).

Robertson was at a rest stop, preparing a meal for himself and his dogs when the portable propane stove he was using blew up in his face. His eyes were burned, and continuing the 1,200-mile race was impossible. He withdrew Wednesday.

He had competed three times during the 1990s, but the last time was 13 years ago. Robertson was no stranger to the numbing cold, fatigue, white-out conditions and other perils that have claimed both dogs and drivers over the years.

We salute the 60-year-old's moxie, we're glad that his injuries apparently will not leave him with long-lasting after-effects, and we wish him a safe journey home.

It's relevant to mention that adventurer Col. Norman Vaughan was 88 when he competed in his fifth Iditarod race in 1997. He also was in his 80s when he climbed the 10,300-foot Antarctic peaked named for him by explorer Admiral Richard E. Byrd. (Vaughan was a sled dog team drive for Byrd's 1928-30 expedition.)

So, for anyone attempting great feats, at any age: It ain't over 'til it's over.

• RASPBERRIES to questioning the time-honored "finders keepers" rule. Sure, we understand that the U.S. Navy still had a legal right to claim the 1846-vintage cannon that storms recently unearthed (or unbeached) along the northern Oregon coast. And we're probably worrying for nothing. But learning that the two small cannon - from the Navy's 86-foot schooner, the USS Shark, possibly could find a home anywhere other than the Columbia River Maritime Museum in Astoria had us a little worried.

After all, Cannon Beach is named for another such cannon, which was discovered on the beach in 1898. It's no less exciting to find other cannon from the vessel more than 100 years later.

Although, yes, what once belonged to the feds always belonged to the feds, time and history and circumstance have us hoping that Robert Neyland is right about what is likely to happen to these latest relics of maritime history.

Neyland has the great job of heading up the Navy's Underwater Archeological Branch at the Naval Historic Center in Washington, D.C. Neyland was excited by the discovery. He said the Shark was one of a few small, fast ships built in the 1820s to suppress slave traders and pirates. The ship was the last of her kind.

About keeping her two cannon, Neyland told The Associated Press: "If the cannon turn out to be from the USS Shark, I foresee that the Navy and the State of Oregon would work together to preserve these guns and see that they are properly displayed and interpreted."

Well, alrighty then. We're already all over that. The cannon are at Nehalem Bay State Park, undergoing preliminary conservation. Next berth: Astoria?