Making Bouquets

Ephemerality

Several years ago, we ripped out all of the grass and ivy in our yard, and stepped onto the path of creating a space dedicated to the bees, butterflies, birds, squirrels, and yes, even the raccoons (who also get a free meal because I cannot seem keep them out of the bird feeders).

I began to seek out native plants, and specific varieties of flowers which certain species need, such as milkweed for the monarch butterflies.

But, I also decided that I would create a garden from which would spring blooms, which I could use to make arrangements, in every season.

Sometimes, in the middle of winter (which really isn’t very cold in Southern California), there is a dearth of flowering plants, especially after the roses are pruned back in January. But, then ferns and pretty twigs and the random budding plants fill in. And pretty soon the daffodils and the crocuses poke their little heads up from the earth.

I scatter a lot of seeds from those pretty packets like “Grandmother’s Cutting Garden,” and “Butterfly Garden.” And I really fancy trying different varieties like “Love Lies Bleeding,” an heirloom flower, and “Bunny’s Ears.” I have both the dark violet and the lighter lavender-colored scabia exploding out of every corner, and “Love in a Mist” floats about a foot or two off of the ground starting in spring and lasting through the summer.

Most of the year, I can step out my back door with my cutting scissors and craft bouquets to adorn my desk, the kitchen counter, and other little nooks and crannies around the house.

What I most love about these bouquets is the ability to bring a little of nature into my home. But, what I love second best is, probably, their ephemerality.

This fleetingness of existence of the flowers and arrangements helps to guide me to a deeper understanding of both the preciousness and the shortness of life.

I knew when I stepped outside this morning, after that unexpected drizzle, and saw the roses dusted with dew diamonds, that neither the droplets clinging to the velvety rose skins, nor the roses themselves would last very long. The droplets are already melting in the soft gray sunshine of the day. And the roses’ heads will be nodding towards the earth in a few days’ time.

I also noticed this morning that the purple butterfly bush smelled especially like lilac because of the moistness of the air.

And, I was careful not to dislodge the rain drops from the tender rose petals when I made my bouquet.

I know that these moments won’t last, except in my memories, photos and words.

But here they are, preserved for a few days anyways, in all of their glory in a little crystal vase on my desk.

And, their very ephemerality makes me treasure them all the more.

And, it reminds me to also treasure the moments of my own life — to stop and pay attention to my kitten whose soft meow beckons me to scratch his cheek, or smother him with kisses, or to tell my husband how much I love him.

I look at those flowers beside me while I write, and it reminds me to get up and take a little break to wander around the garden, or to go for a walk in the nearby canyon, or just to breathe in the freshness of the air after a spring shower when all of the flowers seem to be expecially fragrant.

I will continue to scatter seeds each season. I never know exactly which ones will flourish where, or which ones will never sprout.

But, that is half of the fun of gardening. Just like life, it is a great adventure.

And we need to remember to enjoy the ride, for it doesn’t last forever.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this piece. You might also like:

Erika Burkhalter, MS Neuropsychology, MA Yoga Studies, teaches yoga and yoga philosophy (the study of such ancient texts as the Upaniṣads and the Yoga Sūtras). Nature and all of her workings inspire Erika’s writings and photography.

Photos and Story ©Erika Burkhalter. All rights reserved.