Inhale! Beauty surrounds us. Every moment is precious. We simply need to see, feel, and experience the wonder of life.
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Years ago, I interviewed the head of Meilland International in France, one of the world’s premier growers of roses. We were talking about the lack of aroma in store-bought roses. He said the aroma comes when the rose is effectively dying, its most poignant moment.
The death of a rose can be seen as a tragedy, or the affirmation of the cycle of life. Something dies, but something else is born. The scent of the rose is powerful because it is at that moment that it will attract the messenger bee needed to pass the pollen that guarantees the continuance of life. It is then that the rose affirms the reason for its existence.
After World War II, when giving flowers became widespread, the tendency was to breed flowers that would last long enough to remain on sale for an extended time in the store. The rose in the store lived longer and retained much of its superficial beauty, but something was lost in the process, its wonderful aroma.
It stuck in my mind as a prophetic observation of life itself. What is the true purpose of a flower? It is not only to be sold in a store. It is seduction as an expression of the life force.
The flower’s color and sweet scent attracts the bee, which transports the pollen that makes the next generation of flowers possible, thus affirming the continuing cycle of life. We are merely bystanders observing life itself.
The sweet scent of the flower in death becomes well nigh irresistible, but it is only one phase of the life process.
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To the Virgins, To Make Much of Time
By Robert Herrick
Gather ye rose-buds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying;
And this same flower that smiles today
Tomorrow will be dying.
The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,
The higher he’s a-getting,
The sooner will his race be run,
And nearer he’s to setting.
That age is best which is the first,
When youth and blood are warmer;
But being spent, the worse, and worst
Times still succeed the former.
Then be not coy, but use your time,
And while ye may, go marry;
For having lost but once your prime,
You may forever tarry.
Spring flower photos courtesy of William T. Dowell
