A Rose by Any Other Fabric


I know the saying is “April showers bring May flowers”, but considering that Cedar City experienced two snow storms this week at the end of May, I’m not giving the weather any credit when it comes to the sudden abundance of flowers.

Recent events, like Mother’s Day and my birthday, have caused me to sit back and realize that flowers make some really strange gifts. Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love flowers, but just think about this for a minute. You spend around 20 to 50 dollars for someone to tie a bunch of plants together with a wire or thread, then give them to someone who will sniff them once and place them in a glass container, where they then sit on the table so that you can slowly watch them die.

My family got me some gorgeous roses for my birthday, and I have to say that they were the prettiest flowers I have ever gotten. For the sake of sounding poetic, it was like someone had taken the sunset and infused it into the petals. Each flower was a mix of yellow and pink and purple, and made me happy simply looking at them. Within a few minutes of putting them into the vase, the petals opened up even wider and I was owner of the largest, prettiest roses I had ever seen.

I enjoyed them for the next few days, and all was well, but once the third day had hit the downfall of my beautiful flowers had begun. Once the first petal started to curl and go brown, it took less than 48 hours for the rest to follow suite. It was kind of painful to watch.

I was then left with the decision of what to do when them next. They were fun while they lasted, but it didn’t take long for the flowers to outlive their purpose and become useless. I suppose I could dry them, but then what? Place the dried flowers in a vase as a monument to what they once were? I’m already have enough clutter as it is thanks to my minute packrat tendencies, so my pretty sunset flowers ended up in the bottom of the trash can in less than a week.

From a pessimistic standpoint, giving flowers as a gift is kind of messed up. “Here, these reminded me of you. I picked them for you so you can slowly watch them wither and die. Just like our relationship.”

Okay, okay, that was a bit of an exaggeration. I’m kidding. Mostly.

I can definitely see the appeal in giving flowers as a gift. They are pretty, they (usually) smell good, and they require little care besides water and a bit of sunlight (although, good luck finding that if you live in Cedar). It’s when people start spending hundreds of dollars on flowers that I think things have gone too far.

Flowers are supposed to be for special occasions. They are supposed to mean something. But what, exactly? Flowers are used for literally almost any occasion: holidays, high school dances, birthdays, funerals, I love you’s, apologies, performances, as a show of sympathy, to make your roommate miserable with her allergies. Well, maybe not that last one, but with all of these special occasions, how much are spent on flowers a year?

My younger brother, Tyson, has found a loophole for this flower dilemma. For those who aren’t aware, Tyson is extremely skilled when it comes to origami. When I was his age, I thought I was pretty cool with my paper fortune tellers and boats. Tyson has quickly beaten me out in the cool factor. He’s made things from dragons to dogs to an origami Yoda.

The origami force is strong, with this one.

Tyson can also make flowers, which the assortment of various color and styles scattered around our house demonstrates. And I am absolutely jealous. Tyson’s flowers don’t die after five days. Granted, they aren’t quite like the real things, but they are still impressive and fun to look at.

I know it probably sounds like I hate getting flowers as a gift or that I’m some flowers rights activist, but I promise that’s not the case. This is what happens when I go into a blog post with very little planning beforehand. I ramble more than usual (but hey, this is a blog called Reclusive Ramblings. What else can you expect?) In the end, it doesn’t really matter what the gift is or what it’s made from, be it petals and stems or wires and paper. It’s the thought that counts, and despite all the uses for flowers, it is my opinion that they almost always bubble down to one universal meaning: I love you.



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