The flower truck

© Jan Wayne Fields

It was parked in a different neighbourhood each week. Its flowers were so fresh, their aroma oozed right into the windows of the nearest houses.

The middle-aged woman who ran this ‘business’ narrated how it all began from a single flower cut by her partner on one of their daily afternoon walks. “It was seemingly insignificant, but to me it meant the world”, she recounted as her cheeks blushed. “From then on, he would constantly bring me flowers, regardless of how small, they would always make me smile”.

“So I started this truck. Hoping to make other people happy too”.

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A flower for words

©Dale Rogerson

He left it there, tall, sturdy and fresh, in a vase decorated with a simple bow that made it stand out even more.

It was a simple gesture that would be greatly appreciated. He was sure of it, because he knew her too well.

He could even envision the smile lighting up her face when her eyes would catch sight of it.

He had to leave early that morning, despite the fact that she enjoyed being lazy in bed a while longer when there was no pressing obligation that forced either of them to jump out.

This was a compromise.

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The meaning we give

©Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

It was on the dining table. A constant remind of the feelings that characterised that house. Passion, love, caring, sensitivity.

Inundated with colour, the crystal vase featured seven gold-tipped roses. Perfectly stemmed, with petals opened just enough to demonstrate their purity and elegance; the roses were a gift from the heart.

They enclosed a memory of a day overwhelmed with emotions, happiness and optimism. Of a day that brimmed of hope for what was to come. For a future full of colour and love.

They were an everyday cue that love is just a word until someone gives it meaning.

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Enclosed in rose petals

©MCD

They are the ones that give colour to the flower itself. The ones you anxiously wait to grow, to bloom, to open up and reveal the others hidden inside. In a rose, it’s the petals that give it its essence.

The petals, just like the rose itself, are full of symbolisms. They represent the destination at the end of a long journey. They are what makes the climb up from the thorny stem worth the pain of it. They are what constitute the beauty of an otherwise ‘aggressive’ flower. For if you can’t grasp the thorns, you are not worthy of the flower. The petals are what accentuate the value.

Like William Carlos Williams wrote, “the rose is obsolete” for “it is at the edge of the petal that love waits”.

Flowers are symbols of love, of adoration, of caring. But they are soon doomed to wither, their petals opening up and eventually falling off. But even loose petals are symbols of love, of passion, of romance. They are the ones that hold the memories of the initial rose. Of the moment in which it was delivered. Of the emotions that overwhelmed the giver and the receiver, and of the instants that ensued.

It is not accidental that the best decoration potpourri usually include flower petals. Because they enclose everything the flower once was and everything it still remains. It reminds us that no matter how closed up we are, we can always bloom, let others past our thorns, and persist, maintaining our beauty unaffected by time.

The Earth’s laughter

©MCD

“The Earth laughs in flowers” said Ralph Waldo Emerson. And you can see it with the first bright, sunny days, flowers all around us begin to bloom filling life with colour. And with that, hope, light and optimism. For where the earth continues to bloom, so does the belief that things will become better.

It is the reason we are so happy and radiant when someone surprises us with flowers. Or why our mood immediately changes when we find colourful, blooming flowers in our garden or on our balcony.

But like all beautiful, worthwhile things in life, they need commitment, effort and determination.

Have in mind, though: “When a flower doesn’t bloom, you fix the environment in which it grows, not the flower” (Alexander Den Heijer). And like The Little Prince so rightly reminds us “It is the time wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important”.

“All the flowers of the tomorrows are in the seeds of today” – Indian proverb.

 

Flowery secrets

©Dale Rogerson

“So what did he do?”

“Huh?”

“The flowers. He must have done something in need of a cover-up”.

“No. Not Matthew”. Erika’s smile seemed to radiate from inside of her. She gleamed as she reminisced of last night and blushed as she realised everyone was staring at her.

“So you mean to say he brought you two flower arrangements for no reason?”

“Yes, that’s what love is”. She sighed as she sneaked a peak of the newly-acquired ring that shone on her left hand. It had happened suddenly.

His card this morning read “thank you for lighting up my life”.

 

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The revenge of the giant Aloe

Mrs Cliffson loved tending to her garden. Ever since she remained alone in her cozy, stone-built house in the metropolitan suburbs, she decided she would reinvent her garden. At least it would keep her busy and take her mind off being alone.

She began by bringing in all kinds of plants, from flowers to foliage to creepers. She bought all types and all sorts of varieties in order to create what she imagined would be the ideal garden to spend hours admiring. She even bought a small Aloe vera plant. One that would cure every rash or nasty cut she would ever have.

So she got to work.

She got out her spade, trowel and pitchforks and instantly created freshly sowed flower beds, as she also replanted all the plants she had bought from the farmers’ market.

Mrs Cliffson was excited.

She spent her days caring for her rose bushes, her geraniums, her basil and mint and even her cabbages. She had a little section cut off for edible products – such as cabbages, cherry tomatoes, and a series of aromatic plants. All around the garden the flower pots slowly bloomed, radiating their rainbow-coloured glow and embracing Mrs Cliffson’s soul. She was not alone anymore. She cared for something and that paid back. All her plants, in one way or another, returned the love and affection she devoted to them.

But her prize possession – her pride and glory – was the Aloe plant.

That little pot of the shy yet sturdy Aloe vera had within months grown into a huge plant that took up almost an entire corner of the back yard. But no matter its fierce appearance, that Aloe plant was what rescued her.

A few years after the birth of Mrs Cliffson’s garden, she had been diagnosed with a rare dermatological disease. One that would cause strange scars to appear on her skin, appearing as though it was slowly being scraped off. It was a condition that baffled even the most supreme of doctors. She had gone on all sorts of treatment and medication but nothing seemed to work. No-one knew what else to advise. The doctors had almost entirely given up; all they could prescribe now was hope.

Mrs Cliffson was sitting in her garden one day, resting in the wooden swing she had placed in between her flower beds. Her garden had become her refuge, her consolation. And that is when she saw it. The Aloe plant had grown so much that it had almost reached the swing. It seemed as if it was trying to reach out to her. As though it was offering a helping hand. And that is when the thought struck her mind. She immediately got up and cut off a piece one of the Aloe‘s leaves. The juice that ran out onto her hand caused a soothing sensation. Mrs Cliffson rubbed it across her scars. The consequence was almost immediate.

The next day, Mrs Cliffson woke up believing the days and months of running to the doctors was a distant nightmare. She stared at her hands in amazement. The scars were gone, leaving no sign that they had ever existed. She ran out to the garden. The cut-off Aloe leaf had grown back and the plant was complete.

Mrs Cliffson had found her cure. All it took was a little tender, love and care for something that seemingly could not repay you. It is surprising what those small “unimportant” things do for us. Even when you least expect it.

A night knight

There was once a princess called Cecilia who lived in a large stone tower. When she was young her parents had locked her in the tower to punish her for being so mischievous. But the key had broken in the lock when it was time for her to get out again and for some inexplicable reason she had remained there for a decade or so. She would receive all relevant nutrition and luxuries through the tower window, by a makeshift elevator. She was a sort of Rapunzel and she constantly dreamed of that one prince who would come to rescue her.

One night, as she was now a young adult, she was staring at the full moon shining brightly and streaming all of its glistening light in through her only window. She had never seen the moon that big before. Maybe it was a sign her life would change. That something good was about to arrive. She fell asleep bathed in the moonlight.

Cecilia was awakened by the sound of hooves stomping on the stone-paved path below the tower. She hastily got up and looked out the window. It was a young man all suited up in what could only seem like those expensive suits Cecilia had read about in her fashion magazines. He was sitting proudly on a white horse. He seemed awfully sure of himself and gestured to Cecilia as if she was the prince she had long been expecting.

Cecilia politely smiled and mouthed a greeting. And then he condemned himself. He asked her to come down the tower so they could ride together back to his castle where she would become his princess.

“If I could come down, do you think I would still be up here?” asked Cecilia quite irritated.

The prince appeared shocked. Obviously he wasn’t very smart.

“I’ll throw you a rope and you can climb down then,” he offered.

Cecilia was so disillusioned she turned away back into the tower and even shut the window, something she very rarely did. This was no prince, she thought to herself. “What kind of gentleman tells a lady trapped in a tower ‘I’ll throw you a rope?’”. “Pfff”, she thought, “hopefully my real prince charming will come soon. One who knows how to treat a lady. Who will arrive with flowers and love notes. Who will know exactly what to say at the right time. Who will be so sweet and gallant that he will strike a sensitive chord in her heart, making her cry with happiness”.

Weeks passed and Cecilia carried on her routine. Silently suffering her enclosure. But just when she was beginning to despair, it happened. It was a night with a full moon as big as the one she had seen a few weeks ago.

A blunt arrow flew straight into her window and landed with optimal precision onto her bed. Only looking at it more closely she saw it was not really an arrow, but a rose. A single red rose whose sweet scent filled the room.

With the rose in hand she approached the window. And right there stood the most beautiful white stallion she had ever seen, with hair glistening in the moonlight. It stood still waiting patiently.

At the bottom of the tower, Cecilia could make out the figure of a young man. He seemed to be occupied with something. As Cecilia tried to distinguish what was going on, suddenly a ladder rose steadily up the outer tower wall. And the young prince was climbing up with it.

In under a minute he was standing before her, his bright brown eyes staring into hers and offering her a dozen red roses neatly packaged, fitting for a princess.

“It has been days since I have been trying to find a way to come to you, my princess. These roses are not enough in front of your beauty. But I promise I will do anything to make you happy, if only you will allow me to be your prince.”

Cecilia melted away. Here he was, standing before her, the prince charming she longed for. Who said chivalry was no more? It is just so rare, that you have to be patient enough to find it, and when you do, never let it go.

This is what they say

 

 

 

 

 

 
Life is like a wheel, they say.
It will turn and you’ll be happy,
and when the sadness strikes,
it’ll go away in the next turn.

Love is like a fruit, they say
Fresh and sulky at first,
ripe and juicy next,
and with life sprouting from the inside in the end.

Friends are like your shadow, they say.
They’re always around you
one step behind,
like the sun that shines on your head.

Pets are like soulmates, they say.
They know what you want, what you feel, what you think
before you even speak it,
just by a glance.

Family is like a maze, they say.
You ‘re stuck in the middle,
often can’t find your way out,
but most times don’t even want to.

Hearts are like flowers, they say.
Delicate and pretty,
they are more precious than they seem,
for inside they enclose an entire world.

Dreams aren’t real, they say.
For you can always imagine what you want to be,
but reality will always be far from it.
Life, they say, is not found in dreams.
But the heartache when these break,
is unbearable.