By: nine
Graphics by: Alaisa C. Magueriano
Photo by: Luis Iñigo A. Lava
The suffix “est” is indicative of the uppermost form of adjectives. Prettiest, grandest, bravest, and the like. As individuals, it is simply human to opt for the most alluring choice. But who’s to determine what’s worth choosing?
Who’s to dictate who’s worth choosing?
Biology states that there are perfect flowers—bisexual flowers, to be exact. In technical terms, bisexual flowers have both pistils and stamens; roses are one of them. With over thousands of species in the family Rosaceae, roses enamor gardens from Asia to Northwestern Africa.
Roses are cliche; they are the stereotypical depiction of anything inherently romantic. During peak season, rose bouquets are oftentimes the most expensive ones, found in different arrangements and colors.
According to the Victorian Language of Flowers, its meaning is dependent on its color. The deepness or innocence of one’s fondness ranges from white for purity to burgundy for unconscious pining. With the flower’s amorous connotations, it comes as no surprise that the most common, blood-colored blossom is synonymous with passion.
There is an analogy that lies between roses and conventional romance: they’re orthodox, customary, and repeated. In a garden, these flowers may grow in abundance—but what makes one stand out? Is it the freshness it possesses? Or is it the beauty that equates to the petals that make it worth picking? Albeit its prevalence, to choose a rose amongst the pricks is to gravitate towards the most appealing buds. The delineation of enchantment through the predictable involvement of scarlet petals may seem shallow, but the mere act of being drawn to a specific flower puts depth where the cliche lacks.
So, to juxtapose its standard existence in the realm of entanglement, it is assumable that roses may be abundant, but not all get picked. Despite the thorns each bloom has, their imperfections can outweigh the possibility of the bloom being appreciated.
Antoine de Saint-Exupéry wrote in The Little Prince, “It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important.” It is conclusive that there is a distinct connection towards the rose that is personally cultivated and cared for, regardless of its jaggedness, a magnetizing and natural link. So, on the contrary, time spent on the favored rose is not time wasted but time earned and a lesson learned—a crash course on patience, tenderness, and altruism. The seconds passing by as someone enlightens the flower is what makes it personal.
Fancying something, someone, should not be reliant on superlatives. So, being able to handpick the stems that are charming in a mainstream sense may be great in hindsight; however, letting nature take its course and be candidly enthralled is a fulfillment of its own. Perchance, flawlessness was never the basis for choosing one’s rose but rather the strongness of the attachment towards it.
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