Mirroring cultural biases I tend to select pristine subjects, their frills plump and their brightly colored arches robust and compelling. This time I selected a slightly different subject.
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| Slow Fade Lissa Banks 2017 |
There were age spots on this beauty. In a few days the petals would thin and crinkle becoming almost translucent, curling in on themselves before falling to the mantle and ushered into the dustbin.
Maybe it's a response to what I see in the mirror most mornings but I am increasingly reluctant to replace these flowers as they fade. There was a time when I could feel a man's eyes upon me as I entered a room. I'm not sure exactly when it happened but unless I'm walking into a talk about Social Security filing strategies it just isn't the same these days.
I have more compassion for these blossoms which become more and more difficult to call blossoms. What should we call them then? I don't know. I do know that they are still worthy of our admiration. They are still beautiful. They are unique and sometimes tenacious refusing to give up their stem. I love them all the more.
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