Growing up I loved roses. I thought they were romantic. I thought they smelled fantastic. I was slightly embarrassed that my favorite flower was such a cliche one. Since then, I have left my love of the rose for the love of the tulip, which is probably also cliche but I am no longer embarrassed. I wrote a silly poem about them when I first started blogging and I think it still captures a piece of my love for them.
A small bouquet of tulips will motivate me to clean my my entire house from top to bottom just to showcase their beauty. It is contagious. Nothing should look that good amidst a mess. They are so elegant. They are so full of promise and slender beauty when you bring them home. They open with a little water and light. Shortly thereafter they have broken themselves so wide open that their petals fall off and you wonder how they were ever so beautiful when you first brought them home.
Yet I love them. I love knowing their beauty is fleeting. It reminds me that life, too, is short yet beautiful. It reminds me that our short lives, which require that we give until we too break open, lose our youthful beauty, and die, are still worth savoring. We are but grass, 'tis true, but we are beautiful grass.