In Full Bloom

I couldn't resist. Its not often that you can get a dozen roses for 6 bucks! But Walmart was running a special. The bouquets were all mixed colors, and every bouquet unique. Some had a preponderance of yellows, others of oranges, others of red. The flower heads were tightly closed, some bent and twisted, others ramrod straight.

I hovered over the buckets of wrapped selections, picking up one, then another, turning them around, trying to find the best collection. I settled on one that had no preponderance of any one color, just a nice mix of all the hues - light and dark pink, white, deep and light yellow, red tinged, apricot tinged - a veritable rainbow of delight.

I tucked them on the dashboard of the car and ported them about as I ran my other errands and completed the checklist of 'to-dos.' First thing I did when I arrived home was shuck the plastic wrap from them, snip off the ends, and tuck them into a glass vase filled with water laced with the packet of bloom saver that had been rubber banded tightly about their stems. I changed vases twice, going for the most advantageous showcase I could muster.

They came with plenty of greenery, both their own rose leaves and a few ferns tucked in next to the baby's breath. I fluffed them out, spacing each rose evenly from its neighbors, giving it plenty of room to breathe and stretch out. I set the whole dozen on top of the TV cabinet near the front window. A few days later, I was rewarded with fully opened faces each proudly displaying its natural beauty, its jewel-like color, its precious layers of intricate petalage (OK, I made that word up, but you get the meaning).

Days later, they are still pristine, still in full bloom with no decay, still medicine for the weary soul. Their very presence in the room brings a calm quietness, a simple joy. Without meaning to, they fill the landscape sans domination. I wish all the medicine I take were as undemanding financially, as free of side effects and as competent at their task as they are. I hope they last for weeks. The only thing that would make them more perfect would be if the rose growers could figure out how to send them to us with that heady fragrance of wild roses. But then, I suppose we would experience those unwanted side effects of bees and sneezes.