There is a Flower in the Garden


We live in rented accommodation. This has its good and bad sides. One of the interesting sides is that you don’t know the history of the garden or it’s plants. At  the last property we didn’t have one and in this one we do.  I’ve always loved gardens so it was nice to say hello. Bear in mind this is not our garden so we are only passing each other in a moment of life and my rights within it are pretty limited. Not withstanding that, I wander round it and say hello to different things within it, remarking and exclaiming to myself as each new combination of beauty express itself through the unfolding Spring.

There is a flower in the garden, I don’t know its name or  species and I have watched it develop with interest. It grows on its own, isolated among a bed of mint. How it arrived there  I cannot say but, among this foreign species it has developed strong and tall. A single   stem of hard blue-green among the sea of  mint. I watch it every day and see the leaves unfold. In time I noticed a bud grow from its tip. Hard and surprisingly heavy the weight of it bent the stem so that it hung like a chandelier from the top.  I surveyed it with interest.

Slowly, day by day the bloom opened: a beautiful pink flower .  It seemed carnation like and the tight packed pink petals  were both luxurious and fragile.   No one had seen this unfolding drama but myself and I tried to show this strange  stem how appreciated it was. It grew, like a refugee in some  strange neighbourhood, untouched by my interest,  with an  awkward beauty that kept my attention . Sometimes I touched it and it’s weight and substance always impressed me: this single splendid stem. As quickly as it bloomed and flowered I began to see signs of browning in its petals and I realised the glory of it was on the wane. From that perfect moment of freshness to this blighted state had taken nothing more than a few days. I still loved it and saw the beauty of it cling to my attention .  I could only watch the glory fade and I thanked God that I had been a witness to it’s brief unsung moment of fullfilment.

We are moving soon and I will never see that stem again but in my brief connection with that flower I learnt that loving something is not owning it. It never said it’s name or acknowledged me in any way. You wouldn’t expect that in a flower.  When I met up with  it’s  private  beauty  I learnt some aspects of love. I couldn’t own it , but through a  sense of its  perfection,  I became closer to myself.  That flower  seemed, in any given day,  a timeless thing, permanent with no voice but  it’s bloom. As  days passed  that sense of permanence became more illusory ,but in that brief friendship, and in this moment in my life,  it  made me look around myself with added wonder, and to value more what passing time I have.  I too live in a rented garden and my time within it is unknown: I try to treasure every day.

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About Peter Wells aka Countingducks

Trying to remember what my future is
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7 Responses to There is a Flower in the Garden

  1. eof737 says:

    Bittersweet… 😦

    Like

  2. This is just a beautiful story. I love that you mentioned a forgotten flower.. the carnation. I love them.

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  3. Jeanna says:

    love this post! So thoughtful. 🙂

    Like

  4. Kirri White says:

    There is something about the way you write that draws me in, pulls my heart-strings and leaves me feeling like a better person just by reading your words.

    You astound me.

    Thank you 🙂

    Like

  5. Shonnie says:

    Thoroughly enjoyed this post. It had a lyrical quality. I love the beauty of God’s creation. 🙂

    Like

  6. Caroline says:

    I just love the way you write. I wish I could write so well. Beautiful. Thank you

    Like

  7. I love this – those little connections we make with the beauty around us if we just take the time to see and appreciate. Beautifully captured 🙂

    Like

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