The other day I was reading poetry in one of my favorite groups. The topic was flowers. And someone was writing about all the dead roses, where do they go. And it brought to mind the Bette Middler song: The Rose.
The rose goes dormant in the winter. The dead blooms of the rose lay in the dirt- they compost, they rot and then take root. Life is amazing how it is continually trying to PERSIST.
It is human nature to keep living! It is the way of the plants.
I love the rose! It is magnificent the way it blossoms and keeps blossoming. In order to keep the plant in its tip top producing state- one must prune and cut off the dead flowers.
There is a photo here of a rose bush that needs "dead heading". Thats the term for cutting away the old dead flowers.
I love that the rose has thorns. I truly do! What a glorious plant. It gives us a magnificent flower- yet it says- to get to this incredible rose you must be careful. Handle with care. Be aware of your touch, where your hands are- what those fingers are caressing.
I have thorns. Yep, I admit, I can be a total "B"…and yet I have gorgeous flowers every now and again. I want someone brave enough to help keep me pruned and in shape. In reality- I know I have to do my own pruning. Isn't that the big trick? The big joke- we look for someone else to fix us.
Yeah we do. It takes work to keep yourself in shape. You got to cut off the dead parts every few days.
I took a bunch of cuttings off some rose bushes this summer! (Waving at Anita) I planted them and Anita is watering them and we hope to have some baby rose plants to plant in the summer next year.
I think about those dead heads- which are seeds- laying dormant. I imagine them snuggled in the rich dark soil (soul) of God's earth…waiting to be born again.
I imagine the dark warm earth cradling the seeds- everything in its time. I imagine them sprouting and becoming strong tall plants- with lovely strong roots.
I smile as I imagine the rose plants peaking (peeking) up from the dirt- there first taste of sunshine upon them….
It makes me want to cry- the simple thought of roses being born. Roses = Art!
We are roses- all of us. We need to grow and blossom. I tell you what--I will help prune you--if you help prune me. (grinning) Is it a deal?
We are making it! We are glorious!!
Inhaling the fragrance of you!! I love you all!