The most temporal of plants- bright and vivid in the morning, wilted and weary in the night. Fragile to the touch, easily ripped, fragrant even when crushed. It’s intriguing how they seem to spring up almost overnight- seeds carelessly dropped, blown and tossed for miles and weary miles by ruthless winds. But they grow all the same.
Except of course for the noble few who take their time to breed them- who tend to their every whim. They make the light come just right; they make sure the flowers are watered just right; they “feed” the flowers just right. They get to see the joy of watching cold and lonely seeds and stalks sprout with new life- that fresh, dewy-sweet scent of newness. Don’t forget the thousands, the millions who see both the immediate finery and beyond that, the significance of each petal, each bud, each leaf.
Remember also the soil that supports them, trodden daily by the feet of harried beings- humans seking income, animals seeking refuge; machines seeking what lies beneath. Even the mortal remains of humans and animals occupy the soil. All the refuse packed in, all the buildings finding their foundation in the soil. The stinky dung we throw in- the earth just takes without complaining. With all the abuse, the earth still finds a way to respond to everything we put in.
The dung and the decay birth an uncanny fecundity in the earth; the salty urine and bones harden to form minerals- diamonds and even petroleum. Even daisies and dandelions find time to pop out of graveyards and abandoned fields. It’s like an act of defiance saying, “you treat me with such disrespect, but hey- we’ll meet one day. Here’s something to brighten your day.”
Flowers are the earth’s way of laughing- Jenna
“Our careless feet leaving trails
Never minding the fragile dirt we all end in”
– Demon Hunter in ‘Deteriorate’ (The Triptych)