Taking Time to Stop and Find the Roses

Turtle & I were exploring our new front yard when he discovered a humble white garden rose on the underside of a nondescript shrub. "oooooooooh!" he intoned, with much dramatic enthusiasm, "Mommy, I found it! Look I found it. White flower!" He beamed up at me proudly from his crouch in front of the shrub. I held the rose stem between my thumb and forefinger and invited him to rub the soft petals between his. He asked permission to hold the bloom, as if it were a priceless fragile heirloom. He delicately reached behind it to pinch its stem. The look on his face blew me away- astonishment, pride, joy- all over finding this pedestrian flower.

I never noticed it was there. I've never been a fan of that particular type of flower. They do nothing for me with their crude asymmetry and layers of ruffly, often stained and tattered petals. Give me a passionflower, a tiger lily, an orchid. Something stunning, structured, bold.

And the naiveté of his pride of discovery. Like Columbus' "discovery" of the Americas. Silly!

But it's these moments that help me get it - how people talk about seeing the world renewed through your children's eyes. How and when did I become a flower snob? I always thought of myself as a nature lover, but when is the last time I crouched down and allowed myself to "discover" something that's been right in front of my busily-speeding-by-on-my-way-to-the-next-task eyes? And to take pleasure in the discovery instead of ignoring new blossoms as no more than the backdrop of my workaday life.

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