As with many people, flowers are something I love very much. Not only do they have beauty unequaled anywhere, some even give off alluring fragrances. Some odors are always remembered. These perfumes can carry good and sometimes even bad memories but it isn’t the plants fault.
There are three plants that really bring back memories I want to keep forgotten. Undoubtedly, one of them doesn’t mean as much to me because I still love the flowers and grow them when I can. They are roses. Every time my ex husband ran around on me or did other things one might consider horrible, he sent me roses. At least the first fifty times or more. Maybe not quite that often but it felt like it, especially since I knew why I was getting them. When Claude and I married, I told him I would grow my own. Saved him flower bills.
Another couple of flowers that have bad memories and these I haven’t quite gotten over yet were associated with my mother. One was a lily with a red vein and the other was a cape jasmine. Both are off my wish list and I don’t know if I will ever want them back. The jasmine is so pungent to me that I can’t even stand it but I like vines like star jasmine. Mother loved cape jasmines. Since she left many years ago I haven’t but I wish no harm to come to the flowers because they are so beautiful to some. I think I am coming around about the cape jasmine but I don’t think I ever will about the lily. The lily is associated with some words that can never be taken back and though forgiven, the memory is still there.
Flowers are something I like to grow and give away. In a home we owned years back, I had so many long stem rose bushes that my family, and my neighbor, whom I really loved and still do though we are miles apart, would come to my house, cut them without my consent and tell me later sometimes. My home smelled so gooooooooood. Roses and butterfly plants and herbs and irises and, and, and are all my favorites.
The memories I speak of, whether good or bad, leave a psychic impression that hits home emotionally on a spiritual level. It gives you the opportunity to learn. Don’t know if I will learn in this life about the lily. At least I don’t hate the flower. That’s something. And I don’t hate my mother either. How could I? But the memory remains.