The Rose Garden
2023
There's sweetness in an apple tree,
And profit in the corn;
But lady of all beauty
Is a rose upon a thorn.
~ Christina Rosetti, “The Rose”
In 2023, I moved near a Rose Garden.
Entranced by its peaceful atmosphere,
I began visiting regularly.
The roses both cheered me up and calmed me down.
Captivated by their vibrant colors and their luscious scent,
I could, for a moment, immerse myself completely in the present.
The garden became a sanctuary away from the stress of moving across the country
and the uncertainty of setting up a new home.
Before I knew it, I started painting the roses regularly, almost ritualistically,
although I didn’t really understand why.
Maybe, I thought, it was to capture their beauty
and keep some of it with me.
But as I recreated the roses with my brush,
I noticed my experiences of them changing.
Now when I visited the garden,
I noticed different things.
Sometimes, like when the roses were in full bloom,
the garden felt invigorating and bursting with energy.
Other times, especially when I visited near dusk,
the flowers seemed to be perfumed in a wistful melancholy.
At times, gazing upon the patterns of the petals,
I would be struck by the mysteries of nature.
Other times, the well-manicured bushes stood out
as examples of human cultivation and refinement.
As winter came and the flowers began to wilt,
the garden became a reminder of death and decay.
The roses, once so full of life, now became symbols of mourning.
It was then that I realized that the roses
had accompanied me through the seasons —
through a whole cycle of change.
And I had evolved with them.
Perhaps this is what the garden had to teach me:
a lesson about life and death
and impermanence and renewal.
That although the roses fade away now,
in spring they will return once more
for another journey through the seasons
and another cycle of life.
As will I.
