Flowers

I think that I've always loved flowers.

- But perhaps that's an assumption.

This last week I found new meaning in the phrase- love flowers.

True- I have had my breath taken away,

and found an impossible urge to stare, gawk, and flirt.

But my courtship with arranging at Camp Joy, and our Dahlia operation on Ocean Street were mere child's play. An extended courtship at best.

After watching my teachers arrange from a dozen buckets as the afternoon sun dripped down the hill- I had an epiphany.

Like a wave crashing I realized- I am in love.

Suddenly my motivations over the years came together in one defining roar. Why so many times I gently caressed soft stems into buckets. Why I stayed after class to continue my pursuit of asexual reproduction. Why I braved blood and pushed through briars of roses to pluck out the most succulent of them all.

Looking back on what I considered love before, I realize now that I had only been eyeing the tip of the iceberg. Looking forward I can imagine that this love will be one deepened over the course of a lifetime.