One of the fascinating things about flowers is the multiplicity of meanings their colors and blooms can bear. They are the gift of antiquity, the great subject of art. One of the second greatest muses (since women are the first). And even in the subject of flowers and women, they always seem to describe one another. Artists and poets of all sorts seem to agree that the flower touches some sort of perfection worth reflecting and attempting to capture. The delicate bulb of petals strung together that mysteriously open into a gloriously sensual experience. Look in our art and you will see them there, saying something to you, so alluring they are irresistible. Why have we chose to make them such a part of our lives? It is much more than utilitarian, nothing like how we have chosen horses or certain crops because we found them useful to sustain us.
Or is it perhaps that flowers do sustain us? Yet in the way that is more than practical, the way that fills us with poetry and light and adds true substance. Sometimes we abuse them, use them to silence others or to assuage them. But even that misuse of flowers speaks to their great power of seduction. Give a rose and know the magnitude held in this seemingly small gesture. You hold ancient wisdom, the force of humanity, perfection at a mere glance. This sweet scent. The enormity of what bountiful richness our world exudes. Allow flowers to say it all, it does not matter the occasion (birthdays, anniversaries, relationships of all sorts), there is a flower that will say it all and more.
