Thought for today:
"Isn't it marvellous that given all of the beautiful and exotic flowers there are in the world to choose from, it is our most common species that are chosen to express our love between the years of child and adult. Flowers are words of love that even a child understands. To the child, the earth laughs in flowers. From the earliest of ages they pick flowers from the hedgerows and the fields for their mothers and no fair flower is ever left standing along the wayside long.
The first attraction all children find within the floral world is with the small white flowers that can be found in common grass, wild fields and meadowland in abundandance and which are fashioned into daisy chains with tiny hands of love. Such is often the very first gift of nature that is made by the fingers of a fascinated child and which is given to a loving mum. The best lesson that all children learn first is to give their mother flowers when she is able to smell them and not when she is dead. It is as if they can sense that every flower is but a soul blossoming in nature; a thing that smells far sweeter in its fragrance than when it is pressed between the pages of recollection.
The fashioning of daisy chains during early childhood is sequentially followed with the discovery of the buttercup that is placed beneath the chin to reflect one's character. Then in our years of growing passion, the dandelion becomes the determinant of all deciders to measure the likeihood that exists in the heart of another; 'He loves me...he loves me not....He loves me..........he loves me not......' It is as if it has taken half a lifetime to understand that just as a butterfly is a flying flower, the faded dandelion that blows in the breeze is nought but a tethered butterfly.
Then last, but not least, we should not forget the bloom that is probably the world's favourite and which is given in the most tender of moments to the ones we love; my mother's favourite, the red rose. Whereas a grown man seeking to impress his love may shower her in profusion, every smart child knows that one red rose says more than a dozen could ever say.
Being the world's greatest lover of the red rose my late mother frequently waxed lyrical about them. She would often quote a once-read phrase, 'A single rose can be my garden.....and a single friend my world,' but the saying I heard her tell me most was, 'Fragrance always stays in the hand that gives the rose.'
Ah... how the simplicity of the common flowers shape our character and determine our fate." William Forde: January 28th, 2015.
"Isn't it marvellous that given all of the beautiful and exotic flowers there are in the world to choose from, it is our most common species that are chosen to express our love between the years of child and adult. Flowers are words of love that even a child understands. To the child, the earth laughs in flowers. From the earliest of ages they pick flowers from the hedgerows and the fields for their mothers and no fair flower is ever left standing along the wayside long.
The first attraction all children find within the floral world is with the small white flowers that can be found in common grass, wild fields and meadowland in abundandance and which are fashioned into daisy chains with tiny hands of love. Such is often the very first gift of nature that is made by the fingers of a fascinated child and which is given to a loving mum. The best lesson that all children learn first is to give their mother flowers when she is able to smell them and not when she is dead. It is as if they can sense that every flower is but a soul blossoming in nature; a thing that smells far sweeter in its fragrance than when it is pressed between the pages of recollection.
The fashioning of daisy chains during early childhood is sequentially followed with the discovery of the buttercup that is placed beneath the chin to reflect one's character. Then in our years of growing passion, the dandelion becomes the determinant of all deciders to measure the likeihood that exists in the heart of another; 'He loves me...he loves me not....He loves me..........he loves me not......' It is as if it has taken half a lifetime to understand that just as a butterfly is a flying flower, the faded dandelion that blows in the breeze is nought but a tethered butterfly.
Then last, but not least, we should not forget the bloom that is probably the world's favourite and which is given in the most tender of moments to the ones we love; my mother's favourite, the red rose. Whereas a grown man seeking to impress his love may shower her in profusion, every smart child knows that one red rose says more than a dozen could ever say.
Being the world's greatest lover of the red rose my late mother frequently waxed lyrical about them. She would often quote a once-read phrase, 'A single rose can be my garden.....and a single friend my world,' but the saying I heard her tell me most was, 'Fragrance always stays in the hand that gives the rose.'
Ah... how the simplicity of the common flowers shape our character and determine our fate." William Forde: January 28th, 2015.
