When is a flower no longer beautiful?

 

     Humility is not my strong suit, though I admire those whose attributes include this often non-judgemental viewpoint that looks at life, perhaps at all life as equally important, and valuable. Perhaps I have not ventured bravely despite defeats, fought through serious health issues, or spent long enough in this process we call senescence; all of which, I think deliver us humility if we have not learned to be humble earlier.  

     I admire youth, virility, strength, intelligence, artistic talents, and beauty. Which is fine in moderation and balance. However, sometimes I place someone who demonstrates one of these elements and raise them up, in my eyes, onto a pedestal of honor like the gold medal winners at the Olympics. 

     Flowers are like that for me. In early spring, the crocus, and snowdrops in the backyard are like frozen tears melted in the spring sun. I adore them from within our warm house while they battle freezing cold nights and slightly warmer days. Then come the ephemerals who bravely come out in the woods to capture their days (and few they are) upon the pedestal to have their day in the sun before the overhead tree leaves cast a shadow over them, leaving the transitory beauties to slide into obscurity. 

     Aging is teaching me to remember the fleeting stars are not really fallen by the wayside; they may no longer be on the pop charts, but they can still be on my hit parade if only I can see beauty for what it is instead of what I define it to be. 

     Take this purple coneflower. The flower photo was captured in March, hardly at the prime of its life. In fact, many would call it dead, perhaps even science would define it as such. Yet, it feeds birds and other wildlife with its seeds, as well as sets out its own progeny with life-bearing seeds. There may be an insect inside its stem awaiting the right daylight and temperature to come out of its cocoon. 

    This flower is way past its prime I would normally attest. Yet, is it really? And if so what does that say for me at my age? I certainly am not creating any more new progeny. Earlier in its life, this flower was adorned with purple petals that attracted all sorts of bees, flies, butterflies, and other insects. I know, I observed them for hours during the summer. It was a (insect) babe magnet. Now, I could demonstrate my lack of humility by saying that I, now nearly bald, once had curly blonde hair that made me a babe magnet. That would not be humble, and even less true. 

    The truth is we are both past one stage of our bodily lives, yet our capacity to do good things is not, I think, diminished. Nor is the beauty, and here I am talking about the flower only, faded or fallen, but only changed to a different design.

    Look closely, intently, without judgment for a minute, at this flower as it is now. Release for a moment the attributes of color; look through your black and white or sepia-colored glasses. Now, what do you see? Do you see perhaps the same stem, petals, and center core that were there in the summer version?  Study the texture, shape, patterns. Do you notice the geometry of its shape, perhaps even more than you did when it was in color? Does the flower become appealing in a vintage vibe? 

    Do the dried blooms speak of versatility, and longevity that we all wish for ourselves? Do they seem light and airy like we feel when we let go of some of the holier than thou opinions we might carry? Instead of looking dead or dying, do they start to look like they can now last forever? When I look in the mirror and wonder where all my hair went, I wonder if others look at me and... ok that's enough about me, back to the flower. See I told you I am a work in progress with this humility gig. 

    This flower, this aged but still productive flower, which stood strong through the winter, held onto its many parts only losing its color, is still a flower, still giving goodness to the world. In my eyes now, this flower is still beautiful and still deserves to be on the podium, if not the gold platform, at least the silver or bronze. 

Bernie

Observing life in nature.

Connecting native habitat, wildlife, and community.