One of my gardening challenges is bridging the color gap between early bloomers like snowdrops, hyacinths, daffodils, and scilla, and when the cherries blossom and peonies pop, and the viburnum bushes burst into bloom. All those beauties, however, simply herald my favorite bloomers of all, the roses. I love the heirloom, antique, heady-with-musk-and-perfume, delicate "ladies" that burst forth all together as if it were a party. I can't bear to pick them, really (well, perhaps a bloom or two). But I am constantly "stopping to smell the roses" and enjoying the fleeting moment of imperfect perfection. And we should do this more in life.
Later come the small and practical blooms that produce the summer beans and tomatoes. The garden gets down to business! Yes, nothing quite compares to a blossoming garden in spring. But I must admit, the older I get, the more I relate to the later blossoms—the roses that burst out spontaneously, with slightly browned edges, in late September.
Think about it: What are the conditions we humans need to blossom? Just like plants, we need good nutrition, clean water, and tender care. We need sunshine and darkness (good rest). We need to be planted in the right place to optimize our happiness. And once we do blossom, we need the pollinators and the people to enjoy and appreciate our beauty, just for the sake of it, not for any other reason.
I can always feel when I am about to blossom. Like a plant, it feels like something I don't really control. Once in a while, the circumstances feel right and it comes over me like a fever or intoxication or a desperate need. Sometimes people notice and sometimes only I know it's happening. But it happens. It's like a spiritual pollination, bringing joy, happiness, and the knowledge that it's good to be alive!