I love flowers.
The arrival of spring brings out the romantic in me, as I am sure it does in many people.
I love the changes in season, and the memories it provokes as each day is turned over like the proverbial new leaf are a wonderful reminder of where I came from and who I turned out to be.
My mother always grew roses, giant bushes full of magnificent colors and smells that lined the backyard fence with their beauteous bounty of fragrances. I was never able to grow them, for they required a certain patience that I did not yet possess at such a young age.
High school brought the occasional boyfriend to the front door, and it was a big deal to get a handful of roses from a new suitor. According to my father, it was a good gauge of how much the young man liked me and how honorable were his intentions. It became the measuring tool for other relationships as I grew older and more selective.
The pages of times turned by at a pace even I wasn’t prepared for, but even the peppering of roses I received through out the years was a fond reminder of my daddy’s yardstick of commitment.
Dating again after so many years of being married, it was a wonderful treat to be receiving flowers again. Out came the yardstick, but not even my dad would have been prepared for the offerings of love I received one summer evening.
A third or fourth date, it was the dawning of the realization that this relationship was different; this one could be serious and warranted more time spent together. We had so much in common, half the time we didn’t have to even speak. So in tune were our hearts that I knew it was for real when he silently presented me with a gift.
Immersed in the sunset, I hadn’t noticed his fingers busily folding a paper napkin every which way. Just having finished a light supper out on the deck of a restaurant near the water, the wonder of the moment was magical.
The simplest of gestures of love, he presented me with two paper roses. It’s simple beauty took my breath away.
On the day of our wedding, neighbors came bearing rose bushes to be planted along side the arbor where we stood to be married.
I didn’t need to plant them to bear beautiful blooms.
They bloomed right in the pots, today and every day since.
A blessed testament to the power of love that will bloom when you least expect it.
